By D. R. DiFrancesco

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Love, a sweet and fragile thing,

So often taken for granted,

Or tossed aside as insignificant.

~~

Only a heart blackened,

Burned and broken,

Could commit such a tragedy.

~~

Choosing to pass alone,

Lonely and cold,

Into the eternal night.

~~

Foolish choices,

Made by selfish men,

In the name of earthly gain.

~~

For what purpose,

Material possessions are finite,

Discarded on our last day.

~~

But is not love eternal,

Gifted freely from one to another,

Melding with our very souls.

~~

What a poor man is he,

Confined to his worldly goods,

While silence fills his rooms.

~~

Does not love will us to go on,

Strengthening our resolve,

Even in times of affliction.

~~

If this were this not the case,

I long ago would have ceased,

Suffocated by life’s despair.

~~

Choosing love instead is most natural,

Engraved into our very being,

‘Til death do us part.