Exclusivity

Why can’t you love only me?

Where is the exclusivity?

Seems to be the question lately.

This yearning to be the only one.

It’s Rose asking, “Am I not good enough for you to smell only me?

And Geranium saying “Where have you gone, you used to frequent these petals the most”

And Jasmine flirting, “I love your nose in my depth”

And I say I love you all equally and differently.

My love overflows infinite like the sky or the ocean or things that last past all these human plays. My love rolls like thunder in a treasure box of precious gems, shaking them to life in explosions of star dust dancing across the heart. My love is the love of life itself and the dew drops scattered across the inside until rivers run through our eyes and mix our souls ocean.

My love is not of this world. But the current this world casts itself from.

But in the end, I will always come back to the one.

The Rose from which all things come.

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