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When It Comes To Love

comestolove

I love the sunshine.

Maybe that’s why I’m such a morning person. The sun is soft and supple in the morning. Especially in the desert–where the morning sun pours over the landscape like light honey.

Afternoon sunshine is sharper. More aggressive and direct. It’s like the sun forgets to breathe deeply and to exhale with manners.

And then, as the sun drips back into the horizon at night, it becomes like cotton candy or superman ice cream as it shows off and uses the sky as a backdrop for its swagger.

So when I look really closely at my face I notice tiny sunspots beginning to form. In the past a few have gotten so large and exuberant–that a doctor suggest we remove them and check for cancer.

So reluctantly now I wear sunscreen, knowing that it’s better for my health.

And realize that some loves, no matter how sincere or natural and giving they may seem–might even kill you in the end.

Like oroboros eating it’s tail….

it’s hard to tell when it comes to love

where it exactly begins

and where we let ourselves

disappear into it.

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