Cha Eun woo
Love is not a whisper lost in the wind,
nor a fleeting touch that time rescinds.
It is the sun in a storm-cloaked sky,
a silver thread where shadows lie.
It is the pulse in silent nights,
the ember burning, soft and bright.
Through joy’s embrace and sorrow’s weep,
it carves its roots, steadfast, deep.
To the hearts that dance in laughter’s flight,
love is the glow, the golden light.
To those who grieve in midnight’s keep,
it is the warmth that lets them weep.
To souls who wander, lost, unsure,
love is the path, the open door.
To those in battle, fierce, unkind,
it is the peace they long to find.
It sings through pain, through every scar,
a melody both near and far.
It does not break, it does not end,
it bends, it sways, it learns to mend.
So let it rise, this sacred flame,
in every heart, it burns the same.
Through every tear, through every start
love is the fire within your heart.
