Where does love go to to die?
Does it die in ashes where once was fire,
does it drown in rivers filled up with tears,
does it walk in nightmares, where one is alone
in halls of echoing dark?
Does love slip away to die,
like an injured animal will hide,
choosing to pass from this life alone
and in solitude?
Does love hide in the notes
of music, to be carried away
to the cold stars above?
Does love die like a man, with
a ragged last breath, then
stillness and silence?
Perhaps love dies, but is reborn,
again and again
in each new blossoming love,
an eternal thing, like the wind
but it blows through each one of us
and touches a point of joy
so sharp within our hearts,
that we are stirred and hear it whisper, “yes, try again,
open your heart, be brave.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright ©2026 Lisa Paul. All rights reserved.
A Little Bit of Everything, With Love 
Pertinent questions, Lisa, and lovely musing on the answers, especially:
‘an eternal thing, like the wind
but it blows through each one of us
and touches a point of joy
so sharp within our hearts’.
LikeLike