When I was a child
I thought the sunlight
coming through the trees
was loving me.
After all these years
it still feels that way.
~ Pir Elias Amidon
What loves us?
Does something need sentience or conscious intent for its offering to count as love?
Does my blue mug love me, dug from the earth, crafted by the potter’s careful hands, patiently holding m…
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