Love, Rare and Rich, Found and Worshiped

I woke to this world, bright and curious.
It was a hunger that drove me,
moved me,
And when the world wounded me, time and again,
with cold determination, I turned my back
to the aching, stinging, burning hate
and I followed my hunger, that ache to create and discover.
It changed me.
It made me hard on the surface, like so much plaster
dry, opaque, uncaring
But my hunger for creativity, it still drove me.
You see, there is beauty in creativity, in creation.
I didn’t know why until my hunger found her.
Her.
She who carried love around like it was paint,
like it was clay,
like it was song.
She painted, and sculpted, and sang love into her world…
and on me.
That was when I knew
Knew what discovery, and creativity, and inspiration are
They are love manifested.
And I found it.
Rarest of rare. Richest of Rich.
against all odds, I found it, and it found me.
And it changed me
And I changed it.
For that’s what love is.
Not a precious stone to fold into soft cloth
and hide in a box.
But, an action that creates,
a will that moves forward,
bright and curious
And changes all that it touches.
Once found it is not meant to be kept,
but worshipped, reveled in… painted with.
And when it is lost…
when it is lost
You ache every day for its return
worshipping where it has tread
praying to what it has created
hoping against hope that it will touch you in your sleep
so that you might once again
wake to the world, bright and curious.

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