I never really bought into
the mythical “falling” into love.
I believe in
the mystical “rising” into love.
The fairy dust of
The initial dopamine seed hooks into dirt.
The slow growth of oxytocin filled fibrous roots.
Beauty grows, oxygen rises in the breath of
The never-ending kiss of Heaven and Earth.
We unfold all of who we are in the
presence of another;
Accepted fully, not enmeshed.
Just as the weeping
willow admires the
From here the taproot
Commits to the
Surrenders to the
laws of nature.
reflecting permission to the other.
Canopies reach into the sky, to see the
world from the above, to
find the blue above the
Eventually, each reaches
the heavens or, perhaps,
The fairy dust falls, again.
The work of the ancestors continues.
Photo by Nathan Anderson on Unsplash