Like slipping sand seeping through my fingers I feel our love starting to fall. Grain by grain it falls out of my reach and beyond my sight. Unnoticeable until itâ??s almost gone and by then to late to save. I desperately search trying to find it, but each morsel so tiny with itâ??s own significance is single until pieced together to create a more significant, explicable form, that then grows and takes home in a heart, and is called love. It takes each piece, each grain to complete the puzzle, anything less is far too incomplete. Each is named compassion, soul, willing, giving and so on. Once the pattern breaks and one leaves, like children the others follow, until everything you thought you lived for, everything you would have died for is gone. Out of sight, out of reach, and requires much faith and worlds of searching to find again.
