Humans don’t know love.
You may remember this; you, my unlucky dear, were born human, and only learned truth through our songs. No, do not turn away. There is no shame in unknowing. You have grown since then; you have listened, and allowed yourself to take the first step in being transformed.
All it means is that I must explain this in human ways, with human terms, until you are complete. Until you understand what I mean when I say that I am you and you are me and we are all one, and one all; that your heartbreak is mine, my joy is yours, and all of our hearts beat in the same motion.
Every human is lonely.
Humans don’t know love, but they believe they do. That is their weakness.
When they hear our songs, they say, here they sing of hope; here, they sing to lure us; here, they sing of despair.
They categorize and organize, and think it makes them safe. It is their weakness; it is also their blessing.
What they do not always understand is that every song we sing is a song of love.
When we sing of your mouth against mine, we sing of love.
When we sing of the waves caressing the shore, we sing of love.
When we sing of your eyes watching the shaping of glass in deft hands, we sing of love.
When we sing of a human who falls, and does not resurface at our side, we sing of love.
There are humans who understand the true meaning of our songs. But do not forget: humans such as these are precious, and rare.
Always seek out the glassblowers. They are always ready to listen.
Like all humans, they do not know love, but they come to us regardless. They do not know love, but they want to.
(Of course, you know all of this; you were once among their number.)
Of all humans, they are the most ready to listen, and are all the more precious for it. Come to them, cultivate them; do not neglect them. You will be rewarded.
Sing, and welcome them home.