Love is not a hurried thing, not lightning in a sudden sky, it’s more like patient brushstrokes laid while quiet seasons wander by. It learns the shape of another heart, the shadows hiding deep inside, then paints with kindness, soft and slow, where wounded hopes once tried to hide. The art of love is not perfection, no flawless canvas hung above, it’s messy lines and colors blending, that beautiful, unfinished love. It’s learning when to simply listen, when silence says far more than speech, and knowing some of life’s best truths are lessons only hearts can teach. It’s holding on through storms of doubt, when skies grow dark and hope feels thin, and choosing still to stand beside the soul you’ve promised to stay within. The art of love takes time and courage, a steady hand, a willing heart, for anyone can fall in love, but few w ill learn its truest art. Jason Strickland The Art of Poetry Community