Its funny how love begins. How it grows to the apotheosis. All way to that point it all looks like a drunkard’s oblivion and now you doing good sobering up. Depending on which side of the story you are.
Or better, developing to a happy ever after with all the bright and dark angels in it.
There is this time, just before the story is big enough for a novel.
Before the paragraphs rhyme into a plot. Just before sentences form into paragraphs. Or just rewind to before the words ripen a sentence. Lets say when the syllables are forming the very words..
This very begaining when the love bubbles in rage. Too hot for physical words to express. When it just erupts splashing and spilling around like hot lava determined to form a mountain.
When you so mad even a moron can tell that you are mad in love..
To me that’s the moment to ask Heavens to open up for thy kingdom to come and intervene.