What verb goes with love?
Sometimes, I wish there were only one. One line of action to get me there. At least if I knew what, I could figure out how. If love where I place, I would know that I needed to find it. That I needed to keep walking forwards or backwards or sideways until I stumbled upon it.
If it had a body or a mind or a consciousness then I would know to wait. And I would. Sometimes patiently, sometimes not. But I would be there whenever it found me. Ready.
If it were me, if it were in me all along then I would uncover it. I would inquire and investigate and dust every inch of myself until it was exposed.
If it were in another human I would run straight for them. The force of impact jolting it loose.
Love though it seems is solid. And scattered. And ours. And theirs. And that we have to do all of those things. We have to wait and seek. Wait and be found. Wait and cultivate. Wait and collide. Wait and haste.
Love it seems exists in the space between. In the and. In the union. In the coupling of waiting and having no intention to do so.