“…love continually goes forth and returns through deeds, which are uses, since to love is to do. For love, unless it becomes deed, ceases to be love, since deed is effect of love’s end, and is that in which it exists.”—Emanuel Swedenborg, Divine Love
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Their love shone in the little deeds: in making and ready of other’s coffee—ready and there when other rose. It shone in making of bed in morning, in its drawing down at night.
It shone in the garden, cultivated verdure: in pruning of the rose, in care of the morning glory and its forward reaching toward the sun—even in autumn’s slowing—and in guide and tame of the passionflower in column wrap and interweaving amongst trellis in its rise.
It shone in their compliments—words and signs of affirmation; endearments given without asking simply because they were there and so.
It shone in sign-telling of eyes in evening’s fall and in twilight’s after-gleam; spirit’s gifting in then release come ending of the day. It shone in sense of oneness in body’s stand and holding close, in caresses and soft touchings—eyes and faces still in smile. It told in meet of lips—warm, supple, and smooth—mouth spoken affirmation felt rather than heard.
It shone in the taking of hand, in movement on to room; in sign of clean-made bed and, too, in after strewn; in close hold of one to other, her body’s curl and match and cradle into his; and again in morning—coffee made, endearment’s welcome as a smile and affirmation of after-kiss.
Day by day, made into a life, love shone in little deeds. For love is in the deeds—small lived and given signs. Love is in the doing, and by it, their spirits shone.