The story continues

As fatigue was relentlessly plaguing the seeker’s body, he decides to journey back to a place that he once called home.

It was the darkest of all nights when he finally laid his aged boots on the creaking floorboards.

He looked through the frosty window from the outside and caught the eye of a young girl whom he guesses to be the daughter of one of his blood.

The house then moves with excitement as the people inside are disturbed by the surprise in the young girl’s eyes.

The door opens.

Embraces are given out.

Laughter and surprises quickens the heart.

The house gets warmer as stories are exchange.

With a heavy belly and hoarse voice

he heads outside for some fresh, icy air.

The silence of the night brought his quest to mind and felt a knot in his heart.

“Will I ever find the purest love of all?” he whispered.

“What is love to you?”

asked a soft, slow voice.

Who, he wondered asked.

Nobody was next to him.

But, because he is a man that is familiar with the strangest, he answers the question.

“Loving someone for who they are,

all that they have been,

and all that they are yet to be.”

And the soft, slow voice utters;

“Love, in essence, is the purest of all.

Not to be measured nor compared

but to be felt.”

He smiled.

Turned to look at his family.

And returned to the warmth of love.