Real love sustains it self, it is enough for it
self.
It is all that it needs; it is the greatest joy,
the greatest mystery of being, with all of the quenched answers.
All is contained, all is free.
Even a forest of trees of knowledge could not tempt
it.
In real love we phantom our depths, the mysteries of our being as it is,
in shared harmony with life, with God, with our loved ones, with our
self.
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