It's not that I love you. I can't even begin to get to know you. It's just that my appreciation for what you have done for me is so monumental, the tears of gratitude are ready to appear.
It's not that I adore you. I can't even begin to understand the scope of you. It's just that you have so graciously flavored me with a millimeter, a mustard seed of your power, it brings me down to my knees.
It's not that I am capable of loving you. It's not that I am capable of knowing you. It's not that I am capable of adoring and understanding you. It's just that the breadth of your inspiration through wisdom and action, the reach of your speaking through presence and non-action elevate this tiny creature to heights unimaginable. I can only hope to stretch as wide as this body will let, as large as this heart will allow, as powerfully as this energy will sustain, for, in the end, what else is there?
...These words are, too, yours...
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