They discovered it and were trying to get to the bottom of it.
They had not encountered anything like this before, but they knew the effects of it.
Lying in the bed, waiting for his death, he looks as pale as a full moon night.
The aura of pain emitting from him is as gloomy as the new moon night.
They tried to cheer him up, guiding him to get out of pain, but all of them knew only he had to go through it alone.
That is the nature of the sickness that found him, which is called by the name 'love.'
There is no medicine for it except her redemption of the love given by him.

I envy you, for you see her day and night,
While I am left to face these lonely nights.

I despise you, for you steal her away,
Just when I begin to cherish the moments she stays.

You envy me, though she bends to your will,
For she loves me more, and always will.

You despise me, though you see her bright and bleak,
For you cannot feel her warmth as I seek.

So, Time, though we are sworn enemies,
I ask your blessing to hear her melodies.

Let her stay with me, and take your shadows far from me.

Maybe I am not meant to be loved; it is the way. Love requires sacrifices, but all I want is someone to sacrifice for me, not the other way around.

Seeker, tell me— what is gold to one who sees only silver?

Am I the fool for trading, or is she blind to balancing silver with gold?

Even knowing this, still, I throw my gold upon the scales— because love is a gift, not a debt to be repaid.

But heed this, Seeker— love is not a bargain; it is a mirror. Only love must redeem love.

If the world has no meaning, why do I stay? Is it not because, even in the bitterness, there is one thing worth waiting for? And if all sweetness is the same, why does my heart turn away from them, longing only for the one that makes it tremble in delight? Perhaps meaning is not in the world itself, but in choosing to wait—for the one thing that alone can quench your hunger.

Once untouched—so pure, so free,
A whispering breeze, light as the sea.
But with one soft push, I lost my ground,
No longer floating, drowning in emoting.

Chained in the shadows, longing to flee,
Trapped in love’s gallows, with no escape to be.

The wheel spins, the bets are laid,
A game of hearts, a love parade.
They place their chips on numbers bright,
The ones with charm, the ones with might.

The ball of fate will roll and land,
On winning hands, the ones they planned.
No wager placed on broken dreams,
No hope for those with lesser means.

Their eyes chase red, their hearts want black,
But never green, no turning back.
A riskless game, they play so tight,
They only love what shines in light.

Yet here I stand, a number cold,
Unmarked, unplayed, a story old.
A silent slot, a wasted spin,
No luck, no love—how could I win?

The burden’s mine, this truth I bear,
That fate won’t stop, it doesn’t care.
The ball will rest where wishes gleam,
Not where the nameless dare to dream.