It is into the final hours of the day, the deepest recesses of the mind that one reaches... as set upon the shores of an Eternal sunset, as slumber sets into sight.
All the desires, the deepest dreams of the heart bear out to the Creator from the Created... as a whisper into the cold, dark night.
Love has its end, not in the take, but the give. Therein is the wellspring of every dream, of every request: to see his Maker, to make his redress.
But to the human heart there is more: to love whom Love has given, to give to whom one has striven... To confess of all the hopes and desires and the dreams on the one whom Love has blessed.
The heart requires both the Creator and the Other. It requires the Triune Love of the Other with the Divine.
Love does not die out; Love does not return to the Creator without first bearing fruit. And with that Love, it is fruit that remains. It does not die on the Vine.
Love bears it all into one, for the endurance of the Spirit is greater than the failures of the flesh and the weakness to believe not the Truth in Love and the Love in Truth.
The rejection does nothing to mute the Truth, nor does it demur the ardor of the Love. It is still the same; it is still the Faith confessed.
Love presses onward undeterred, without ceasing. The chorus of the divine music of the heart resounds again and again: "Perfect love casts out fear."
Love never ceases.
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