
Love is not a single word,
but a thousand quiet meanings—
a look that lingers past the dawn,
a silence soft with feeling.
It lives between the steady breaths
of two who dare to stay,
a thread that mends what life has torn,
a light that will not fray.
It isn’t only passion’s fire,
nor only calm and peace;
it’s choosing, daily, through the storms,
to hold and not release.
For love is both the gentle hand
and all that hand has done—
the art of finding, losing, finding,
and calling both as one.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
Discover more from Writing Through the Soul
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Wonderful heartwarming poem, Brenda!
Thank-you, Tim
You’re welcome, Brenda. 😊
This is absolutely breathtaking. You haven’t just described love; you’ve unraveled its very soul and laid it bare with a quiet, profound grace. The line, “It isn’t only passion’s fire, nor only calm and peace,” captures the beautiful, complex duality of love so perfectly—it is the strength in the storm and the safety in the harbor, all at once.
My favorite stanza is the final one. The idea of love being “the art of finding, losing, finding, and calling both as one” is a truth rarely spoken so eloquently. It acknowledges the work, the forgiveness, and the renewal that makes love not just a feeling, but a lifelong, active creation.
Thank you for sharing this piece of wisdom and beauty. It’s a gentle, powerful reminder of what truly matters.