Love is like a seed waiting to blossom. It lies beneath every surface waiting to be nourished. Every drop it is fed sprouts a new petal, its growth stimulated through the pleasure of commitment; for commitment breeds great pleasure. As each essence unfolds from within, it manifests itself outwardly, scattering its comfort to the surroundings. The blossoming of this love emulates into a source of illumination that guides the wandering, nourishes the deprived and calms the distraught.

Love is delicate. There are those who are reckless with love often letting it slip from their grasp with improper attention and lack of commitment. There are those who devour it in one gulp, swallowing without digestion. The value of true love is hidden from them or rather it melts upon consumption, denying them of an everlasting taste. Their hearts are left cold and emptiness within them persists.

It is only those who savour every drop of it while preserving its value, ensuring that it becomes a part of them and moulds them into the essence of their being, whose hearts wholly benefit. They let the stalk of love remain firmly rooted while receiving the fragrance of its scent and the sweetness of its taste, always admiring its precious and timeless beauty. They regard love as a life support that connects them with its Owner.

Like an admirer of an art piece, ever longing to meet its artist.