There is a love, actually seen as a higher love, that still possesses a thin veneer of fabrication. It is a love as pure as most conceive of — the love of the yogis in their "all one" vision — and yet, it contains subtle, subtle qualities of fabrication, which means it can become entangled in a duality or dichotomy with hate (desire to destroy, push away, resist). And, in this subtle way it is subject to being dragged down into dense fabrication, through a spiral of love-hate, create-destroy, pull-push, etc.

There is a love beyond that has no property of fabrication. It is unmoving. Still. Without substance. The rock is the metaphor for this love. A quality that stands unmoving, that does not appear to possess love as we conceive of it.