There was once a boy who knew how to love. With compassion and joy unbound, in oceans he dealt his love to all. To his parents, siblings, friends and to his teacher above all.
Wave upon wave it soothed their souls, and spread joyously from the land he was born in, to the farthest shores across the seas.
Many years passed, and in their passing they found he had enveloped the world in a delicate sheath of love.
Then one day, in peace and joy he passed away. A drop returned to the ocean it splashed up from. A drop that before dissolving coursed its ecstatic story on a page.
Many decades later, another boy, unsure of his love, gifted those pages to someone. And gently, a dream was stirred. A dream dreamt many years ago in ignorance. A dream that haunted and stayed and singed both sides of a brain. Until a pair of eyes hungrily devoured a gift of uncertain love, and discovered an immeasurable truth deeper that conscious thought.
Ironic that that which he mistrusts the most should convey depth that his eyes couldn’t.
In an autobiography of Love.