Love never walks a simple line,
Where joy and sorrow intertwine.
Where there is light, the shadows grow,
And passion burns with silent glow.
You bare your soul, turn inside out,
Give all your tenderness, no doubt.
But that same love won’t reappear—
Just wounds and truths that once were dear.
To love is not just warmth or grace,
Nor promises, nor prize to chase.
It means to die for what is true,
And live through loss for one clear view.
It holds such power, fierce and deep,
Each fault becomes a scar to keep.
The price of love is shards of fate
You lose, and lose, at steady rate.
Yet still you walk, though hearts have burned,
In hope that warmth will be returned.
And if the world should fall apart,
Love still will rise within your heart.
It asks not "how?" nor plays by rules,
It shuns the lines drawn out by fools.
In love, there's chaos, pain, and night,
But also stars and peaks of light.
You fall—but rise with just a glance
That sparks the soul, gives hope a chance.
For in its fire you are alive,
And through its storms, you still survive.
Love is the meaning of all roads,
Though thorns may lace its heavy loads.
It is divine, the endless stream—
In love, we touch the edge of dream.
