Love found is in the emotional risk of giving it. Aspects, in shape, size, polarity and promise. Nothing officially occurred until light was created. In darkness all things no matter how sovereign or asleep are residing in the potential of their wakefulness. Loved enough to see the light of creation and breathe the breath of sovereignty within me.

Nothing to share but that which was given unto me in promise. Residing within the context of my reformation, blind, just barely to the things that will emerge. It is not enlightenment I seek, in the pleasure of my own adoration, but that peace that emanates from within each heart as they begin to trust and understand what love does within them.

Mystery fills my spots with wonder. Knowing what should not be revealed simply because I asked. I do not ponder the possibility and that absurdity of eternal consideration. My fate is an offering from the writer of the horizons and the painter of universal opulence. Why would man burden his days, placing weight against the causeway rather than walking forward?

From here to there and anywhere I am allowed to visit, calculate, review and apprehend. For in movement the dance begins. In swell the wave crests. In tide the boat floats. Do we worry about every tidally locked planet, perhaps? The moons and distant starts too numerous to tally are exceptional mystery for someone to resolve. Maybe days yet formed.