I think it is the hope of loving,
or being loved.
I heard a fable once about the sun going on a journey
to find its source, and how the moon wept
without her lover's warm gaze.
We weep when the light does not reach our hearts. We wither
like fields if someone close
does not rain their
kindness
upon
us.
- Meister Eckhart -
Artist: Maureen L. White, www.urbanpasturesart.com
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