I love a rose

I love a rose. And I love him as he is. His color, perfume, leaves and thorns. I give it as it is, with the earth in which it was born. If you cut it, it will not last for more than six days. With its roots, the wet earth, its beautiful bowl, even if the rose loses its petals, will always flourish forever, as long as the rose feeds with rain, sun, it is groomed and loved by the gardener. And if you get everything out of you, it means love. The rose is life.

This is the day I met a friend who told me he was very in love. So fond of forgetting the days of the week. Indeed, no one is more vulnerable than a loved one. It is said that the man who loves is weak. At least so I hear left and right. But is love that makes you weak or weakness in your soul makes you more loving?

We love and we also expect to be loved. But if it's not what we want it to be? Then what do we do? Do we transform it into hatred and indifference? We throw the rose just because I stuck in his thorns? My dear ones, we can not understand love unless we understand the love of the one who created the rose. I love you the way you are and I do not dream of being different, as your life has shaped. If you truly love her it will be yours. Do not choose what you like and what you do not like. I love you for everything that you are. You will see how it will feel loved, understood, seen not for what it looks, but for what it is.

My dear, love awakens love. The more your heart burns, the more you discover in it the face of the other. The school of love is here. We only need to be taught by the one who loves us.