Author's Note: I do not own Glee, or any of its characters.
Only on silent mornings can you hear the sound of love. That is assuming of course you are in the presence of love. And you'd know when you were. It wasn't visible. It never was. You could sometimes find visual clues to let you know love was there, but these were hard to see.
But when you hear the sound of love on silent mornings, you know that all the misery you had ever endured was worth it because love's sound was something magical. Very magical. A forty-piece orchestra nor a choir of angels could produce a noise anywhere near love. To put it in simple terms…well, maybe you can't.
It's quite a different thing from lust. Lust you could see. And feel. Not that you couldn't feel love, but it was a thing much more gentle. Lust you could feel anytime you brushed up against another. Most people thing lust is love because of its unearthly power, but let me assure you, LUST is not LOVE.
And it never shall be.
Even I break down on occasions and succumb to choosing lust over love. It felt great for a while but in the end there was no real reward. Only guilt and a feeling of stupidity. The stupidity was caused by choosing wrongly and the guilt because you commit a horrible deed. I refuse to say that making love with your love is horrible, but I will say making love with nobody in particular is.
So on those silent mornings when love is flowing into your ears, don't let it go. It's a miraculous thing to be able to hear it, even over the snores of that special person in your arms. Or the snores of the special girl who's arms you're in.
For me it's the former.
I absolutely love my love whose love I can hear. And I sure hope she can hear mine, because it's there. It's always there. You could tell by the look in my eyes, or the way my smile never seems to fade willingly. The sigh of contentment that comes out after every hug or the way my heart quickens upon her arrival.
Rachel Berry is in my arms and I hope you too can have something so sweet.
No pun intended.