My beloved was born of earthly mire, silvered air sweetened by fire. Stars sleeping beneath a velvet umbra, time’s iris blooming with the hours. A gaze watchful and deep, awaiting tearful dew, warm kisses of morning rising renewed.

neolithic people were like these rocks need spirals. and they were right.

what if love exists everywhere? what if it exists in the gentle touch of a morning breeze, the whispered secrets of rustling leaves, and the warmth of sunlight kissing the earth? what if it lingers in the shared laughter of friends, the comforting embrace of family, and the simple acts of kindness exchanged between strangers? what if love is woven into the fabric of everyday moments, waiting to be discovered in the seemingly ordinary yet extraordinary tapestry of life? what if it's like that?