by 
It can’t be stirred in a pot until it tastes better
Can’t be set a top a stove to heat up
Can’t be baked at 450 and set before us to satisfy our hunger
It can’t be shaken out of slumber or kissed alive like a fairy tale
It’s timing is a mystery when it chooses to awaken, when it chooses to be given
It must be wait upon, served when ready, not served when wanted
It is not self-seeking, it doesn’t wave you off, it doesn’t point you in the wrong direction, it doesn’t see the opportunity you provide, before it sees you
It doesn’t try to perfect your body before it takes you as it’s own, it doesn’t let you go when you can’t make yourself well. It doesn’t ignore your call or get back to you only when convenient
Love is not convenience, it’s not angry when it’s presently healing and freeing others; it rejoices in that kind
It reciprocates goodness, does not hedge its bets or hedge its heart; it entrusts itself to potential hurt recognizing that it cannot fail even when wounded.
Love is the overcoming currency of the world, yet it never insists payment
But when it’s missing you will hear it, you will see it, you will see the blood in its absence, carry the dejection in darkness, feel the rage when it is replaced with indifference
Love is not another lecture, though it will endure far longer than one
Love will never lose its luster, though it will fall frequently to wash feet
Love isn’t interested in leverage, it holds loosely and is delighted to walk along
Love when perfected eliminates fear, brings near, keeps here
When love lays down or conquers, it looks the same because it leaves a wake of life
When love awakens, we are full
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