Exposition

بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Love is neither given nor received, it is simply a state, like the saying, "being in love", or "falling in love". It requires no conditions once in it, has no ending if understood, and needs not even reciprocation for its survival (though that's preferable). 

I've described myself as an ocean many times, such is how I'd describe emotion whose strength taps into the ideal but must contend with the real simultaneously.

Of my beacons, the Moon has long been completely dissolved within my ocean. Inside every atom's trace, there is something lunar present. Even if the clouds are there, even if the Moon's light is obstructed or restrained, and even if the Moon herself decided that it would never shine another speck of light, inside my ocean will remain my Moon's essence. 

You need never speak another word, and what I have felt, and that which I chase, will not change. Long has this place been one of soliloquy, of expression and release, and more rarely, one of actually conveying thought. The silence doesn't truly bother me, and surely it cannot stop me. I have loved, and it remains, and there is a place that I live for which I seek it manifest in. Even if I must, with my Rabb's permission, reconstruct your heart with my own bare hands at your resurrection, then so be it, I would see it done. These words I would bring to life:

"But I’ll get there, God willing. I’ll find it. I’ll be whole again. If not in this life, then in the next." -6/5/18