Love is always new.
It doesn’t matter if we love once, twice, or ten times in a lifetime—
we always find ourselves facing something we’ve never known before.

There is a freshness in love that neither time, nor longing, nor disappointment can erase.
Each time hearts touch, the world takes on new colors.
The same rain feels sweeter, the same sky, deeper.

We love and forget that we’ve loved before.
We sway between fear and wonder, like children learning how to walk.
We surrender to uncertain steps, full of hope,
in a dance that never resembles the one before.

Each love opens a new gate within us,
a garden untouched by anyone else.
Each encounter is a beginning,
each smile, a story never told.

And even if we carry our scars in silence,
love still manages, every time, to make us believe again.

Perhaps that’s the beauty of it:
Not in certainty, but in the miracle of always standing before a radiant unknown.
Not in repetition, but in the courage to leap into the void,
hoping that on the other side, someone will catch us.

Love doesn’t grow old.
We do.
But in its arms, we remain forever young.