What is love? Love is often nothing more than a theory without application. An overly romanticized concept with amorphous aptitudes. Vacillating between idealistic and lofty, to lascivious and lewd. Who’d be able to articulate a definition with which we all agree? Well, I humbly submit that love is incomplete when directed at others if not first genuinely directed inwardly. To love yourself true, you must take stock of all the flaws within you. Change what can be changed and except what can not. Outwardly reflect self love, for loving just you would be the loneliest of lots. Indeed, to love others as one loves themselves is often the most Herculean of tasks, one that many of us simply do not pass. And still I ask, what is love? I believe it defies definition, for definitions are limiting, and one should not define that which knows no boundaries. That is as foolhardy as trying to define God. So, my only reply that feels correct. God—is love.