This feeling: What is it called?

Like poets in search of the perfect word,
To express deep feelings of thoughts abstract,
I seek and search to define the absurd,
And to sing such sweet songs that won’t distract,
For tirelessly we’ll wither away,
Without this lofty notion being clear,
But we’ll be united once more someday,
As you are my serendipitous dear;
Oh how I’d come to you, arms opened wide,
Over canyons, swamps and deep blue I’d cross,
Ascents be damned, I’d trek the great divide,
For your absence is my severest loss;
What is the word that I cannot think of?
The answer simply put, my dear, is love.