Try to place a definition on love,
It disappears like water in the sand.
Your ideas fade, eclipsed by time,
All your words are scattered in the wind.
Is love, like a diamond, forever?
Found rough and whole then cut, polished, set.
The style and setting the choice of fashion.
Ever reduced until what is left?
So what about non-tarnishable gold?
Those plain twin gifted bands we choose,
To bind together or bonds that cut
Or over time wear thin and that thing lose.
What is a thing? Should we define it and
Label it to know its mass and motion?
When we could live in the experience?
Or is this too romantic a notion?
Fergus Carty
Daily Quote: “...focus on the journey, not the destination. Joy is found not in finishing an activity but in doing it.”
-- Greg Anderson
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