The heart of love

‘tis the heart of love that mourns
and cries the tears of need
silently within the self
no one has access to.

And not to say it goes away
amidst a fulsome life
or changes form and mutates
into something less
as the years accumulate
one upon another.

‘tis the heart of love that knows
to keep it in a safe place
while turned it is by destiny
to look upon another face.

And not to say the heart of love
can't o'er lay the grief
with a different kind of feel
and it's called in modern parlance
the moving on from love.

But ‘tis the heart of love
that must move beyond the grave
for there perhaps another face
and another sense of grace
will capture and hold sway
over all of life's dismay.

Perhaps, perhaps!  Perhaps I make it so
by the thinking and the planning
of a future that I presently
don't even know I'll have!