What shall We talk about today? Shall We talk about you? Or shall We talk about Me? Shall We talk about the weather or what you ate for breakfast? Does it matter what We talk about? Sometimes you have something urgent on your mind, and sometimes you whistle a happy tune. What matters anything when We are together, and together as One?

What do We need to be complete but Our One Self? What do We need but love? Love is the grist for the mill. Nothing else is.

Hooray for love. Nothing is more interesting. And there are so many ways to love and love again and think about love on Earth. If you must think, think about love. Unlimited is love and the shades of love. There is love for a child and love for a parent. Love for animals, nature, flowers, all the people We carry in Our hearts, near or far. And there is romantic love, simply a branch of love. There is love of words and stories and tales yet untold. There is love. And there is always more love ready to set out to deliver itself.

Love is always seeking new ways to express itself. Surely, We want more expression of Our love. Love does not want to stay within, dwelling on itself. Love wants to go out to the outer reaches of itself. Love wants to encompass everything, the whole world and beyond. Love is an eager traveler. Love wants to set sail into uncharted waters.

Love wants to be a deep-sea diver. It wants to be an ace pilot. It wants to alight on stars and carry starlight. Love wants to go to the center of the Earth and dig deeply into the heart of the Earth and leave itself there as well. Love wants to go everywhere, be everywhere, leave itself everywhere. It wants to forge new trails. Love wants to be a comet that speeds on its way. Love also wants to take its time and savor itself and sink its transmitted love into the very heart that gave it.

This is love, and love loves to relate itself and listen to its own stories. Love itself cannot get enough of giving love. Love digs deep into its pocket so that it can chip in more love and more love and more and more love.

Love wants to meet itself everywhere and in everything. It wants to dive into every heart, leave itself there, and leap into the next heart until it finds itself lively in every heart and can call each heart its own, its own parking place, its own hangar, its own taking-off place. Love settles, and love flies free, and this is the story of love.

This is the love story that has been told through the ages.

To some, it has been a dream. To the dippers into Reality, this is the only story there is. Love is a beautiful mustang who roams the range without any reins held on him.

Love is a beautiful mustang, and love is also the cowboy who rides him. The rider spurs the mustang of love on to further hearts on the range in order to deliver the love from his vast heart to another.

In the world, very often tales of love are tales of woe because the teller of the tale wanted love to be enclosed and held as a still frame and kept close to the teller of the tale of woe.

Love may stay. Love does stay. And yet love cannot be fettered. Love is no one's captive. However, love loves to capture all hearts. In that sense, it can be said that love is a stealer of hearts and keeps them all on an unfenced field of love.