Murphy's Law (or, Accidents Happen)

Everything has its time.
Everything has its place.
Some things in our world even
have both—a time and a place.

All happens as it is ordained
to happen and we find out when and where
that ordination is when it is our turn. The stars
turn and turn and turn, the planets swing
through orbits, and the seasons change from one
to another; all of life lined up in order,
following the natural routine.

Routine is boring.

Love is not boring.

Love throws all things into chaos, and
reminds us that we, too, are mortal.
Love does not allow us to be complacent, but
instead shakes up the very foundations
of our lives, breaking us down and rebuilding us
into something never yet seen before.

There is no time for accidents in life.
There is no place for accidents in life.

Love is, then, by all accounts an accident.

The most glorious mistake we can ever make
is to throw ourselves wholeheartedly into
experiencing love for another person,
and only hope that they make the glorious mistake
of loving us in return.

There is never a time or a place for love.

But then, that’s always the best part of accidents.