O mortals, what is love that binds beyond life on earth? To all corners & in pair we fly, braving season side by side. Union is bliss; parting is woe; agony is boundless, and for a lovelorn soul, sweetheart.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.