A human being is a marvel of metamorphosis. In a single, fleeting instant, one can be utterly transformed. Moments ago she radiated happiness; a heartbeat later she may plunge into sorrow. One second she is willing to lay down her life for you; the next, she seems capable of waging war against you.
Yet this is the very enchantment of our species. Our volatility gives texture to existence, its depth, its flavour, its unexpected crescendos. Without these oscillations, life would be a dreadfully monotonous affair.
All of it, every shift of mood, every sudden turn of the heart, forms the intricate notes of a grand, unseen symphony. To love a person is to love that entire orchestra, not merely the pleasant melodies but the dissonant chords that complete the harmony.
Human beings, like the skies above them, have their climates. There are days of bright sun and crystalline blue, and days when clouds gather thick and brooding. There are moments of searing heat, moments of shivering cold, and an infinity of subtle weathers in between. A human heart changes in just the same way, continuously, unpredictably, beautifully.
To love someone is to embrace all these infinite possibilities, every subtle shade, every delicate nuance, every unexpected season of their inner world.
For love can exist only where one is free to be utterly, unabashedly oneself, unmasked, unguarded, and unreserved.