It's so easy to talk about love,
But so hard to define it.
One looks to the past
And the future.
And all you could find,
Are remnants of a forgotten passion.

We feel the emotion,
We emulate the symptoms.
But we can never pretend to be
The subject of the all encompassing entity
Called "love".

To the mind of the cynic,
Love is science.
To the mind of the fallen,
Love is living.

I send you my love
And my ever forgiving heart.
Because without it,
The world is silent, sore, and stripped of being.

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