Love
Love is the quiet sentry
At the edge of every Soul—
It does not ask for Witness,
Yet it sees the Whole.
It learns the ache of distances,
The grammar of a Tear,
It studies every trembling heart
It never seeks to steer.
Awareness is its lantern—
Empathy, the Flame—
It walks the World in borrowed breaths
And never speaks its Name.
It watches those it shelters
With an unprotecting Care,
Knowing Joy is fragile Glass
The Heart consents to bear.
To love is not to bind the light,
Nor claim it for a day—
Love is the act of letting go
And quietly—to Stay.
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