Love is a universal language. Children and adults alike have their own unique concept of love. However we define it, there is no right or wrong, because love can be a thousand words all at the same time – a totality of every ounce of our being, infused with all of our sweet and bitter experiences brought about by this supposed complication.
Love can be described in all sorts of adjectives ranging from the first letter of the alphabet to the last. Love is amazing, boundless, complex, dependable, enigmatic, and fascinating. Love is golden, humble, integral, joyful, knowing and loyal. Love can also be mysterious, noble, ostensible, poetic, quintessential, and romantic. Love is also superlative, tender, ubiquitous, valiant, warm, yielding and zealous.
Love can do all sorts of things. Love absorbs, beguiles, cheers, and desires. It energizes and fascinates. Love gambles, hopes, and also it inspires. Love also joins, keeps, and also lavishes. Love can merge, numb, occupy, and provide. At the same time love can quench and rave. Love can scorch, tantalize, understand, and validate. Love wins. Love yearns.
Love can be compared to thousands of things. Love is like an amalgam, a buffer, a circus. It could be a drug, electricity or even fire. Love is like a grenade, a hazard, an impulse. Love is a joyride. Love can sometimes be a killer. Love is a legacy. It is magic. Love is like nimbus clouds, or an oracle, a path to salvation. Love is a question. It is like a river, the sun, a train. Love is an umbrella, a vacuum, a waterfall, an x-ray. Love is like yoga. Love is like the zoo.
Indeed our personal definition of love could prove to be the sum of all our own experiences and the words we choose to use. We try to define love as an attempt to understand and verify what we feel. But, in the greater scope of things, love is too precious to ever be limited into words that could make it tangible. Words may never be enough, and when words wouldn’t suffice, one thing is for sure – as Paolo Coelho simply states in his book The Witch of Portobello. . . love simply is.
Love is a universal language. Children and adults alike have their own unique concept of love. However we define it, there is no right or wrong, because love can be a thousand words all at the same time – a totality of every ounce of our being, infused with all of our sweet and bitter experiences brought about by this supposed complication.
Love can be described in all sorts of adjectives ranging from the first letter of the alphabet to the last. Love is amazing, boundless, complex, dependable, enigmatic, and fascinating. Love is golden, humble, integral, joyful, knowing and loyal. Love can also be mysterious, noble, ostensible, poetic, quintessential, and romantic. Love is also superlative, tender, ubiquitous, valiant, warm, yielding and zealous.
Love can do all sorts of things. Love absorbs, beguiles, cheers, and desires. It energizes and fascinates. Love gambles, hopes, and also it inspires. Love also joins, keeps, and also lavishes. Love can merge, numb, occupy, and provide. At the same time love can quench and rave. Love can scorch, tantalize, understand, and validate. Love wins. Love yearns. 
Love can be compared to thousands of things. Love is like an amalgam, a buffer, a circus. It could be a drug, electricity or even fire. Love is like a grenade, a hazard, an impulse. Love is a joyride. Love can sometimes be a killer. Love is a legacy. It is magic. Love is like nimbus clouds, or an oracle, a path to salvation. Love is a question. It is like a river, the sun, a train. Love is an umbrella, a vacuum, a waterfall, an x-ray. Love is like yoga. Love is like the zoo.
Indeed our personal definition of love could prove to be the sum of all our own experiences and the words we choose to use. We try to define love as an attempt to understand and verify what we feel. But, in the greater scope of things, love is too precious to ever be limited into words that could make it tangible. Words may never be enough, and when words wouldn’t suffice, one thing is for sure – as Paolo Coelho simply states in his book The Witch of Portobello. . . love simply is.
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