To the east, rising out of the earth like an ancient tribe of petrified nomads lies the Superstition Mountains. Jagged, yet beautiful, reddish in their hue, nearly deplete of vegetation, they give the appearance of being steadfast and immovable, totally unchanging. And yet, each crack, each line of strata, each thin-fingered skeleton of a peak that reaches for the sky tells a story of creation, sometimes subtle, sometimes dramatic, but always beautiful.
Love is Love. Let it be steadfast, immovable, dependable. Accept that some days may bring dark clouds, and the accompanying wind and rains. Expect that the sun will peak through, the wind will turn gentle, and that given a change in atmosphere, the mountain will yet again be revealed in all its beauty; perhaps appearing all the more beautiful for the casting of a momentary shadow.