She is the messiness of love

A tiny light that has no meaning beyond being.
She has no further ambition. 
Only to live,
teasing from life the essence of every moment,
to draw out every gasp of breath,
every furrowed brow thought,
every fevered dream.
She is Life.
She is that love that breathes in 3am talks and midnight teary hugs.
She is not the noonday, coffee shop love but the messiness of emotion
thrown wildly through darkened rooms of the soul.
She is the love of family strife and redemption.
The fearful goodbyes.,
 the edge in the eyes when one recalls the memory of a tight hug in
the midst of grief.
She is the beat of our lives.
We are never truly alone
That most complicated of things :the human heart.

Heather Lake