I’M WALKING, AND LOOKING AT SIGNS OF LOVE.
Love signs, and signs of love.
There are signs of love — it’s that heat, the blush, the rush of connection and relating — that “relating” is this, the carrying of a story that becomes heat, passion and the flushing brush of the bird’s wing of wild joy.
That abandon, that’s one of the signs of love.
It’s a reeling. Love reels, wheeling in the mind and memory of…
Love — reels in. You.
Love signs in the sigh, of the shadow of a building (hidden, it is) — it’s the graying zone, where the light just creeps to a deeper and perhaps blood-filled sensate burst, that you’re drawn up into the up-rushing which is the heightened burst of Light.
Which is the love light — another of the signs.
That idea of the sign, the love of life, life loved, lovelife — there is a sign; and it’s worth looking for. Love, marked.
Like the code of beauty — hidden, that symbolism; and yet — there it is, writ large.
THE STRATEGY OF THE CUMULUS:
IDEATION: Cloudmind | http://bit.ly/eToSYp