"Question," I ask
"Ask"
"If unwritten, unbound,
What is love?"
Both Soul and Science reply,
neither suffice

"If not seen, heard, nor touched,
it's felt how?"
Even Hate deigns to answer,
Love beings its own price

On night looked down
the Moon unto a shore
pushed and pulled

As I get up to see
Gravity pulls me

"Could it be
as such: simply a grip,
an immortal decree?"
I ask the Moon, the Ground beneath;
each smiles,
both silently hugging the Sea