It is unspoken, primeval, arcane--a feeling, an aura resonating from the nether realms of one's spirit.
An unspoiled haven where remnants of divinity still linger.
Where man yet converses with Eternity.
It is rich in color; nurturing in its hues.
It is what binds, traversing all that stand in its path.
It cannot be seen, but it reverberates, pulsating from the inner reaches of the soul, faintly seeping through the orifices of our corporeal shells.
A subtle warmth resounding from our center, turbulent waves, encased in utter stillness--fleeing, fleeting--yearning, pursuing the object of our intention.
Ask a mother of its depth.
Ask a mystic of its taste.
Ask a lover of its language.
Ask your self.
Love.
