What is Love?

On the edge of a cliff
I stand,
head bowed,
hands clasping
the wrought iron form
of my heart,
not wanting to drop it
but needing to let it fall.

I don’t look
down below.
I don’t dare
try to ascertain
who might catch it
or whether
there is anyone
to catch it at all.

I simply loosen my grasp
and allow it to tumble
from fumbling fingertips
into the unknown.

Photo by Anna Urlapova from Pexels

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