Love is a seed in barren land,
turning dust to fertile sand.
It grows a tree, strong and tall,
softening earth to absorb it all.
Not just joy, but even pain,
drifting down like gentle rain.
For love does not invite the storm,
but opens hearts - tender, warm.
Pain does not break the tree apart,
but it cracks the earth, it scars the heart.
Some wounds whisper, some strike deep,
shaking roots that memories keep.
And when the cracks begin to spread,
two paths lie where lovers tread -
One, the ground splits, love is lost,
a winter field beneath the frost.
The other, weeds begin to rise,
climbing up in green disguise.
Anger, doubt, regret take hold,
twisting vines that choke the soul.
Weeds grow tall, they steal the light,
turning love into a ghostly sight.
And soon, the tree - once strong, once bright -
stands in shadows, void of life.
But love, like earth, can heal again,
if seeds are sown in broken plains -
seeds of care, of kind embrace,
of words that mend, of hearts that grace.
For love is more than just the tree,
it's the earth that lets it be.
So tend to love with steady hand,
Lest it crumbles into sand.
Design by Niranjana M
Article 19 