Love, the kind for true living. My soul, has much room, my heart has space. There’s so much, things that can fill up space. But, when you understand the gravity. The space, is not a accommodation, a heart not a home. If it’s not a place, you’re free to live, love, laugh. A place, to find hope for dreams, delight in accomplishments. Live out your faith, be unapologetic, to be who you are. For love, to have a place in my heart, room in my soul. I have to, keep clear my mind, leave open a window. True fulfillment, not about filling up the heart, with meaningless prevision. But leaving, enough room, to become a good host, to the broken-hearted. A place, where someone can come, and find compassion. Perhaps, somewhere they can come, to rest their troubles, on a gentle love. You don’t, have to be a heart well furnished, for the love to be welcoming. Having space, but yet intentionally making room. The space, to hospitably receive, a heart in need. A random act of kindness, a heartfelt intervention. A helping hand, a heart’s initiative. Real love, will always seem to find. Enough space, to shelter a weary soul. I don’t, know about you, but try leave space, in your heart. The perfect space, where love resides. My soul, endeavors to find words of love, to share. When your heart, is open, and available. There will surely be a need, for love has a secret place, my Perfect Space!