Love

It’s black and white.
Something you can always see through.
Sharp and soft.
It’s broken and held together,
Just by a hand of the moonlight.
It has power.
It has weakness.
Short and endless.
The reason it’s held together,
Is beyond the very air of which I seek.
Invisible to the naked eye.
You can only feel it.
But you can see it,
Only if you find it.