Like a seed, love is a noun.

Love is a seed planted within us all.

Like a seed, love can lay dormant, oppressed by layers of darkness. Trapped within infertile soil. A pulsating, pushing presence, frustrated!

Love must become a verb. Germinating, reaching, rooting. It must be nurtured, watered, fed. From seedling to plant, growing! Love is a verb.

Like a plant it relies on its environment, its community to grow.

Like bees to the flowers, love entices, love enthralls, love is beauty and nourishment. Scented and sweet, entrapping. Freeing like pollen on the wind. Love blooms in many varieties.

Its roots pervade our existence. Like a tree it is our breath. Like mycelium, it is our foundation.

It must be tended!