Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart. -Washington Irving
“And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make” -The Beatles, The End
All love is never lost.
Some love is frozen—
locked in winter’s grasp,
molecules clutching each other
like hands unwilling to let go.
It waits in the frost, untouched,
preserved but distant,
a memory encased in ice.
Some love melts—
it runs, reshapes, bends,
a river without a destination.
It kisses the earth, fills empty spaces,
becomes something new with every twist and turn.
Some love burns—
it flares too bright, too fierce,
petrifying those who do not dare to hold the scathing flame.
It cracks open, shatters,
then vanishes into the air, unseen.
But even then, it lingers—
a whisper in the wind, a shimmer in the heat,
weightless but waiting.
But love never disappears.
It rises, condenses, falls again,
a cycle written in the sky,
etching itself into the delicate fog on your window,
waiting to be seen—
Even in atomic moments,
what once seems lost returns, softened, purified,
is always ready to flow back into your heart,
never far from eternity.
And when we eventually leave this Earth,
our love metamorphoses into plasma—
the aurora australis, or distant stars light-years away, immortalized.
Boundless, free of sorrow,
it dances on the edge of eternity.
And those who remain will feel your love’s tender caress,
like moonlight on their skin.