Love, a tale both old and new,
A feeling vast, yet interpreted.
We weave it as immortal art,
But does it hold such timeless heart?
It isn’t easy, nor always kind,
A test of will, of heart, and mind.
Not grand gestures, nor spreading fire,
But quiet acts that don’t expire.
Love cannot fix what’s deep inside,
No magic cure for pain we hide.
Two souls must stand, both whole, complete,
For love to grow, for hearts to meet.
It’s choice, not just a fleeting flame,
A steady course, not just a game.
When thrill fades into steady streams,
Love builds its strength in shared dreams.
Unrequited, it leaves its ache,
A silent lesson, hearts must take.
For loving’s power, raw and real,
Is not in getting, but to feel.
It shifts, it grows, it learns, it bends,
From passion’s heat to trust as friends.
Not less, but more, it finds its way,
Through every night and dawning day.
But love requires a heart that's whole,
To give, yet guard, your sacred soul.
For empty cups can’t quench the thirst,
Self-love and care must come first.
And though it blooms, it may not stay,
Some loves are meant to fade away.
Yet even in their brief spark,
They leave their light within the dark.
So know, dear heart, love’s fragile art,
It’s not a race, nor quick to start.
It’s magic real, yet bound by ground,
A choice where truth and dreams are found.
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