‘the purification or concentration of a substance, the obtaining of the essence or volatile properties contained in it, or the separation of one substance from another, by such a process.’
Some days the hardest part
Is thinking of that someone
And only feeling all the Love
Instead of all the loss
And that I still have to tell myself to try hurts all the more
And yes it seems unfair
That I should live without the whole of that Love when it was so complete in life
Now refracted like the sun by the rain
Splintered perfect light
And I find a universal unfairness for every soul that tries but fails to see only Love
When they remember someone who’s gone
Because where there is Love
There will always be some pain
Can there ever be only Love?
You are not alone but you have to know
If there can then it is in the living days.
So do not delay in training your brain to distil from happiness and all you’ve experienced only Love
Let any hurt be gone. Just let it evaporate. Love is the distillate.
For Love is a compound after life has left; memories come pre-mixed, happy with sad and Love is joined by loss at the hip
It is hard to separate, however strong it was, however strong it is
In life let Love be pure while you can. Now is the only time
Until there is
Only Love left