Love

Love takes many forms;
Some are splendid and shining.
Some are quietly beautiful like a river ever-running.
It is patience and softness.
It is unbending strength.
It raises the spirit and brings the body to its knees.
Love is a salve on all wounds, even those dealt by love.
It surpasses distance, flies birdlike across miles,
And buries itself deep in the heart.
No pretty Valentine heart this, but sinew and crashing blood
That echoes the unending crashing of love.
A substance that fills the marrow of the bones.
The low note of the horn that calls the soul home.