We do not learn to love in this sense.
We came as love.
We are love.
~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The seed does not compare itself to the flower and the tree.
It is.
The flute does not try to shift its shape or melody to strings or drum beat.
It is.
The moon does not rise in fear it will not shine as brightly as the sun. It receives. It reflects.
It is.
The essence of you was never born and will never die.
It is.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.