Why does the soul search the endless nights for
invisible clues that create a puzzle that can only
be seen by the beholder? Is it love? Does love drive
us to create an illusion of perfection in our world
of fantasy? Is love the reason I want to crawl inside
of his mind and flick through his black and white
memories, scrutinyzing each picture in detail and
creating my own images in the dark shadows that
his sight never touched? Is that love? Is that
the reunion of two abandoned souls lost in time?
Is love the; seconds, minutes, hours, days and years spent
staying away, staying hidden so as to not reignite flames
that refuse to go out, flames that have no place to burn,
is that love? Is love the fight you refuse to walk away from,
the constant humiliation of a returning moment of recognition,
I am here, always I am here, lest you may forget, I am here.
Is that love?
Is love the deep desire to devour another’s body?
To lay naked beneath the stars next to them?
To abandon all fears, to explore new heights
to reach to stars you never knew even existed. Is this
not love? Is it not love when the peace you feel comes
from deep inside, from knowing them, having touched them?
Is love not, letting them go, letting them walk another path
one that was never destined for you?
Is that not love too?
blossomsworld 
I’ve always like Sci-fi author Robert Heinlein’s definition of love, even though it’s in prose… He said, “Love is that state where the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”….
Pretty much covers all the bases, as far as I can see… Your poem is a fine, elegant exploration of the question, with, in my opinion, a correct conclusion in the last verses. Nicely done….
gigoid, the dubious
😎
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I think that is an absolutely spot on definition of love, I like it :). Thanks.
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