Everywhere you search, love has already been found
and formed into something beautifully handcrafted.
Exquisitely hand-painted and given freely in spite
of thorny situations.
Diving off high cliffs into depths of unfathomable
discernment, love takes on realities of it's own
and becomes like honeysuckles - sweet to taste but
attached to a vine of life not of or belonging to
anyone.
Freely given, spread as a dessert over those we
choose to love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem