The Riddle of Love.

In shadows deep, where thoughts entwine,  
A question lingers, a riddle divine,  
“What is love?” it whispers, soft yet bold,  
A tale of hearts, both tender and cold.  

In the quiet of night, when stars take flight,  
I ponder this query, shrouded in light.  
Love, a tapestry woven with care,  
Yet frayed at the edges, a burden to bear.  

Is it the warmth of a mother’s embrace,  
The gentle touch that time cannot erase?  
A breakfast served with a side of grace,  
Even when age paints lines on the face.  

Or is it the sting of a heart that breaks,  
When hope is dashed and the spirit aches?  
A crush unreturned, a silent despair,  
The weight of longing that fills the air.  

Love blooms like flowers in spring’s sweet breath,  
Yet harbors the shadows that whisper of death.  
It dances in laughter, it weeps in the rain,  
A paradox wrapped in joy and pain.  

When the love of your life kneels down on one knee,  
With a promise of forever, a future to see,  
Yet in the same breath, it can shatter and fall,  
As trust crumbles down, echoing the call.  

Cheating hearts, they weave a cruel thread,  
A tapestry torn, filled with words left unsaid.  
See how it twists, this question so vast,  
A mirror reflecting our futures and pasts.  

What is love? A question profound,  
In every heartbeat, in every sound.  
It’s laughter shared under the moon’s silver glow,  
And tears that cascade when the heart’s left low.  

In the silence of night, it haunts my soul,  
A relentless pursuit, a quest for the whole.  
For in every lifetime, in every breath,  
This question remains, a dance with death.  

Forever I search, yet never will know,  
Why love brings both joy and a desolate woe.  
A riddle of life, wrapped in mystery’s shroud,  
A haunting refrain, both tender and loud.  

Is it the fleeting touch of a lover's hand,  
Or the bond that withstands, like a fortress of sand?  
The thrill of the chase, the fire in the eyes,  
Or the comfort of silence when no need for disguise?  

Love is the laughter of children at play,  
The promise of dawn when night fades away.  
It’s the stories we tell, the memories we weave,  
The dreams that we chase and the faith we believe.  

Yet love can be cruel, a tempest untamed,  
A whisper of hope, followed by shame.  
It’s the ache of goodbyes, a heart torn apart,  
The longing that lingers, a weight on the heart.  

What is love? A spectrum so wide,  
From the joy of connection to the pain we can’t hide.  
It’s the moments we cherish, the times we regret,  
The lessons we learn, and the tears we forget.  

As I wander through valleys of joy and of sorrow,  
I search for the answers, for hope in tomorrow.  
Yet with each passing heartbeat, the mystery grows,  
For love is a river that ebbs and it flows.  

In the embrace of a friend, in the gaze of a child,  
In the sweet, simple moments that leave us beguiled.  
It’s the melody sung on a warm summer night,  
The flicker of stars that illuminate sight.  

So here I remain, in this quest so deep,  
With echoes of love that never shall sleep.  
“What is love?” I ask, as I journey through strife,  
A question that lingers, the essence of life.  

And though I may ponder till my very last breath,  
This question of love, intertwined with death,  
I’ll carry its weight, with a heart open wide,  
For in seeking the answer, I find love is my guide.