By Martin Falatic
Written 1992-02-27 05:00
I am stunned by what I’ve found
An end! A beginning…
I’ve lived too much, they say,
Seen too many things drift sorrily away.
In my heart reigns wretched turmoil,
though my countenance reflects little.
Those who know me can see,
those who love me can feel,
that longing hidden deep.
My love is like a seed,
it never dies,
It simply hides in a shell,
Biding its time, waiting…
One day there will come to my world
true love, on soft wings,
Floating on the warmth that is life itself.
And it will carry my soul, and strengthen me.
But this day shall never come
unless these truths are embraced:
Love can not be bought or sold,
neither can it be taken: only given.
Love can not be held:
it must be free to move and grow.
Love is not beauty, but that which lets us appreciate it.
It neither feeds nor gives food — that is from within.
For love is not an object, but a communion,
a melding of one’s soul with another’s.
Yet despite these bounds of logic and faith,
love is still infinite.
As the colors of the rainbow,
it can never be divided.
It is continuous, and in that way,
Love is eternal.