Late in the afternoon, a painter takes brush in hand and begins a new masterpiece. Colors chosen carefully, he fills his canvas with images and with life. Perfect in every sense but one -- a tiny flaw in the shading of a tree, he throws the canvas into the fire.

The ocean rocks in steady rhythm. Waves thirty feet tall destroy an entire village, yet the sea creatures far below nestle in the realization that the storm is on the surface. In the heart, there is calm.

The dancer dances despite the pain.

I am here and she is far away and he further still. Yet we are all one.

And as the golden wheat sways gently in the wind, the wild flowers fill the air with their sweet essence, and the mountains stand guard in the back. Birds in formation fly overhead and sing joyfully.

And we don't even notice.

Can I share my love with you, even though I have just discovered it?

I'm not the girl I was twenty years ago, or even last year.

I'm not the girl who collected broken seashells on the beach and brought them proudly to show Mommy. (Because Mommy doesn't care about broken seashells.)

I'm not the girl who held on to the shattered dream of the boy who said I wasn't good enough for him. (And sadly, I wonder if he ever will find her.)

I'm not the girl who spent all her time trying to be what everyone else wanted her to be. She used up all her energy and died a lonely death.

And out of the power of Love, came the transformation. The gray skies turned blue again, and the snow melted, and flowers sprung up where the land was said to be infertile. And the birds, once silenced, began to sing.

And one by one, we discover it.