In surrendering to the power of the heart and the love found there, know that in the beginning as in the end, it is all that is or ever was or ever will be.
Sometimes love does not arrive as a grand gesture. Sometimes it is simply a pot of rice, a pair of hands, and someone doing what they can with what they have. Perhaps this is what holiness looks like when it becomes ordinary.
The mystery that is vast enough to hold both the horror and the love without having to explain either away.
A quiet contemplation on love stripped of self-importance—love as humility, kindness, compassion, surrender, and the simple recognition of beauty in all things.
A lullaby for the quiet hours, when the world grows still and night gathers gently around us. A reminder that even in sleep, we are held — precious, loved, and never beyond the reach of love.