Imperfect perfection

Love is not made from perfect faces or perfect bodies, it is not made from cloth or stone. We get so caught up in the fantasy of love that we often run hurriedly past genuine love, distracted by the twinkle of romantic grand gestures often based on nothing more than a generic idea found only in the movies.

We fight and we fight trying to be perfection to feel deserved of love but it is in our darkest days, not only our greatest triumphs that we form connections. That we weave the ever lasting bonds of true love. It takes effort and wanting to create the tapestry, so intricate so unique to the individual. It takes choice. We must choose to love another everyday we wake. We must commit. Love is more than temporary curves and muscles, love is that warm feeling that fills you from the inside out when you simply sit quietly with your love. The passion arises out of this quiet contentment, as we realise we can trust with our entire being. We are home in that moment, and at total peace, free to explore whatever our bodies choose.