Love is a wound fiercely and swiftly striking the unaware, spilling the red contents of the soul into the open and leaving an eternal scar. Love is dancing in the rain, exultant and joyous, not caring that the sky is gray instead of blue. Love is the heady aroma of an intoxicating perfume that snares your senses and leaves you in a daze. Love is the beautiful flower that, when its petals finally unfold, is more breath-taking than you had ever imagined. Love is the trust of an innocent child whose blind laughter is unaware of lies and terror and evil. Love is the night sky: black and foreboding but full of tiny, glittering stars. Love is an autumn leaf falling gently into the embrace of the grass. Love is a rainbow, the joining of rain and sun, of tears and smiles. Love is the sound of a happy voice belting out Christmas carols in September. Love is the chiming of far-off church bells; the hearer knows not why they toll, for death or for new life. Love is a diamond because diamonds are precious and diamonds are forever. Love is a wound. Love is dancing. Love is intoxication. Love is beauty. Love is trust. Love is the stars. Love is falling. Love is a rainbow. Love is singing. Love is bells. Love is forever.