Transcendental
Where does all the love go when there is no one left to give it to?
It seeps into the cracks of stars and craters of the moon.
Maybe it is nestled in the midst of all the rings of Saturn,
Or has pieces hidden behind Chiron and Black Moon Lilith.
Where does all the love go when there is no one left to give it to?
Maybe it rests in the gaps between petals,
And the beating of a bumble bee’s wings.
