Test of love


Love is love is love, so it is said.

Love is a feeling I hope we experience throughout our life for people who come into and out of our life, people who are forever tied to us through their presence or our memory of them, and places that leave indelible impressions in our life.

Love is a feeling that ebbs and flows; this is inevitable as change occurs and love diminishes or reinvigorates.

Love is not just a noun; it is not just a “thing” that we have or do not have. Love cannot persists without conscious attention. How will we know love unless we know love by noticing what it inspires?

The feeling of love cannot sustain, not for long anyway, the practical reality of living with or being with a loved one. We are attracted to the supportive words, kind gestures and quiet presence that we know to be love. And we are not immune or blind to the socks left lying on the wet bathroom floor, the promises not kept, the lies told… and what then?

Therefore, love is also a verb. “To love” as well as “to have love”.

Whether a romantic relationship, or a parent-child relationship, or friendship, doing love is an imperative. Love is a precondition, and loving becomes the act to preserve love. It means doing for another at times by denying our self. I am not referring to the martyr parent or companion; this can be as simple as shortening time out with friends in order to collect your child, getting out of bed on the weekend after a long work week to make breakfast for your spouse, listening and supporting a friend even as she repeats the same mistake – the “little” but significant attention offered willingly and lovingly.

To cease doing love is when we take love for granted.

The test of love can thus be this – Are we consciously attending to our loved ones, to their physical, psychological and emotional needs? Are they to us?

This I know, loving inspires love.


~ FlorenceT


© 2017 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.


I breathe




And so I breathe
This breathe of life
Watching it flow through me
Across the memories
Like a balm
This flesh trembling
In the aftermath
Of fire scorching
Ripping through veins
Bloodied wounds
Seldom seen
And so I breathe
For momentary comfort

– FlorenceT

[Edited: Image included 1 Nov 2016]

© 2015 Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

The room within


Connecting three dots… so bear with me.

1. Late last night, a friend thought I might enjoy Sue Vincent’s writing prompt revolving around this picture…in less than 100 words. At the time I was inspired to write of a cosy space, filled with what I love… books.  But it was late then…


2. But this morning, I was struck by this sense of our humanity as I sat in my car waiting for the light to go green, watching the sea of people crossing, each unique and yet the same as we go about our daily life, making a living, caring, loving, bearing loss, feeling anxious, being grateful, experiencing pain…

3. As I sat sipping my morning coffee, I was reminded of one of my all time favourite songs “All of Me” by John Legend while reading Erika Kind’s ‘Song of the Day’ post.

And thus inspired, here is what I think lies behind the door:

Beyond the door lies a space which beckons and welcomes, lit by the warm glow of a smouldering hearth. And stepping into this room with its low whitewashed ceiling, it compels an exhale of air releasing the tension and anxiety of the day. Stretching from the floor of polished rocks to the ceiling and spanning the walls, books gently and haphazardly compete for space on shelves of polished timber.

At the center sits a sofa of dark leather, aged by constant use, its texture softened by loving. A pale sheepskin rug lay before it. Here you find the room’s only occupants. They share this library and experience great comfort, exhilaration and joy from its contents, as much as from each other. Always acknowledging their unique human need to connect and to separate, to be individuals and to be one. No matter the disappointments, the loss, the grandeur and thrill of beyond, they know they are home to each other.

Alright, I am a romantic too… at times…when I have time to be. Interesting thought…having time to be romantic…?

– FlorenceT


© 2016 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

Rumi on Valentine’s Day


Rumi on love, life and living:

In your light I learn how to love
In your beauty, how to make poems.

You dance inside my chest,
where no ones sees you,

but sometimes I do,
and that sight becomes this art.


When I am with you, we stay up all night.
When you’re not here, I can’t go to sleep.

Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them.


 The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.
They’re in each other all along.


I am filled with you.
Skin, blood, bone, brain, and soul.
There’s no room for lack of trust, or trust.
Nothing in this existence but that existence.


– FlorenceT

As a new year begins…


This poem, by WB Yeats published in 1899, expresses a desire to demonstrate our love with material things, when all we could proffer to ones we love is our dreams. It speaks of love’s vulnerability.

How often unconsicously we trampled on dreams – when we smile vacantly at a young girl’s declaration that she wants to be a world renowned footballer, or when we smirk at another’s wish to be a successful author, or when we scoff at one’s passion to travel and learn from the world… so many ‘unbelievable’ dreams but only to us. These dreams are laid out for us because we love and are loved. And what about when we doubt our own desire, our own passion? Yes, we also have a love relationship with our selves.

So as we enter the new year, an exhortation for us to tread softly.



May loving kindness light your way…

I wish you abundance in 2016!

– FlorenceT


© 2016 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.