Chosen, Again and Again

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In the quiet dawn of every new day,

before the sun fully finds its place in the sky,

love speaks not in thunder, not in urgency,

but in a whisper strong enough to steady two trembling hearts.


It is not a single spark

that dazzles and disappears into memory.

Not a passing tide

that kisses the shore only to retreat.

It is a quiet, steady flame  one we shelter with open hands

when winds begin to rise.


Love is not bound to fleeting feeling,

nor chained to moments of ease.

It is built slowly through patient healing,

through tender words spoken in truth,

through eyes that remain open

even when tears gather.


It grows roots deep in the soil of the soul -

roots watered by forgiveness,

strengthened by storms,

proven by the days when staying would be easier to abandon.


And yet it does not bind.

It does not cage or command.

It frees the heart, calms the mind,

and invites us gently back

through joy and pain alike.


It blooms in ordinary grace in shared silences,

in small smiles across a crowded room,

in a hand reaching without hesitation,

in whispered prayers at restless midnight hours.


Through sunlight and sorrow,

through seasons that test and clarify, love becomes resilient.

Not untouched by hardship, but refined by it.


And so, with every sunrise,

we do not simply remember love  we choose it.


Not once.

Not only when it is easy.

Not only when it feels bright and certain.


But again in ordinary light,

in gentle days and uncertain nights,

in moments fragile and fierce.


For love’s truest art is not falling-

it is rising.


Rising each morning

with an open heart and steady hands,

turning toward one another

and saying, softly yet surely:


“I am here.I remain.I choose you.

Again.And again.And again."

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