As sand trickles between my fingers,
Still I continue to search its meaning.
The meaning of love that is,
Of millions of grains, of countless truths
Only a handful can be held;
The rest slipped away, untouched.

Love, an figment ever changing—
Untamed, unfixed, unpinned, undefined.
When I place a phrase on my tongue
It escapes like a breath on a cold morning:
Visible for a moment, vanishes after.

And though I may never grasp it,
Still I blindly follow where it leads.
For love, even as a figment,
Is a journey worth the wandering.