Oh Love… threat of violets, you visit me and climb, by your cool stairway, the castle that time has crowned with mist, the ashen walls of an enclosed heart. No one will know it was grace alone, constructed crystals strong as citadels, and my blood opened desolate tunnels without its sovereignty dispelling winter. So, Love: your mouth, skin, light, and sorrows, were the bequest of life, the sacred gifts of the rainfall, of the living world… ~ Pablo Neruda (Photo by Kirsty Mitchell)