Love is fierce.

Love is strong.

It cowers, and bends, and withstands crushing pressure; it folds in on itself.

Love clings, love grips, love hangs on in the storm.

It looks for the spark of light when there is none.

Love knows when it is not enough. It seeks unceasingly for the scaffolding to shore it up.

Love weeps.

Love mourns.

It sacrifices itself again and again.

Love is steel.

It digs in deep. It bides its time. It burns slowly into bloom.

Love survives.