The Truth of Love

What is true love?
Is it the way you make me feel,
The way you feel in my arms?
Is it the tingling rush of excitement
That floods me upon lovers' embrace,
Or the tender sweet taste of your kiss?
Is it the feeling of our midnight dancing,
Or the warm and intimate union between us?
Is it the fears and secrets we've shared,
Or is it the trials and tribulations, the pain
That we have surmounted together?
What is true love?
Can it be found in the inconstant moon,
Or in the starry universe above us?
Can it be found in the poems new and old,
Or in the plays of screen and stage?
Can it be defined by philosophy,
Or denied by those of philosophical minds?
Can it be painted by the greatest artist,
Or written by authors of passionate romance?
What is true love? Who can know it?
True love is not merely an emotion,
Though it sparks an inferno of emotions.
It is not peace, or hope, or faith,
But is the foundation from which those spring.
True love is the knowledge that without you
I could never, ever be complete.
Without you I could never breathe the way I do,
I could never think the way I think,
Nor could I live the way I live.
True love demands that I realize
That you are the other half of my soul,
That without you nothing would be right,
That I would rather die than be without you.
That no wrong, no argument, no difference,
No sickness, no flaw, no financial burden,
Nor any other kind of unforeseen hardship
Could ever cause me to leave your side.
I am yours forever, til death do we part,
Because I truly, with all my heart, love you!