the same girl is never the same (12)

she lights a candle thinking of
the one she lost, and other ones
along the way the twisting way
 that flows from love,
 and leads to love.

she listens to the mourning dove
across the river, plaintively
at glowing end of somber day:
 it's all from love,
 it ends in love.

the world within, below, above:
the tears of grief that noiseless fall,
but in their silence seem to say
 this flows from love,
 this all is love.