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Love is found in the wind. In the first fresh breath of morning air. In the silence of dawn, when the sun first starts to peek above the clouds.

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Because love isn’t about understanding; it’s about letting go.

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There is no set definition for love. No foolproof means of identifying or labeling it, no sure way to know whether what you’re feeling is pounding in your partner’s heart. But it’s beautiful, nonetheless.

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You can do things with excellence. You can speak words with eloquence. And you can believe with an unshakable faith in life. But no matter what you do, say, or believe, you are just a mere clump of atoms deprived of all the sunlight that should break free out of your rigid fleshly walls, if you don’t love.

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Love is not perfection. In fact, it is everything but.