@lynncoyle1,

Lynn, I went back and read your earlier post.

I cannot recall reading a thing more romantic. Two people volunteering to take the pain upon themselves so as to relieve it from the experience of the other.

Gold is only ever purified in a crucible of fire.

Everyday ... is a day. A day never before lived, and hence a day worth living. So live it. And when there is no tomorrow, as is unavoidably the case, you can at least say, "Yes, but do you not recall yesterday? And the day before it?" And it is in that recollection that such days, and the lives that were lived within them, live on.

Notwithstanding my Intro Post, the post below was the first poem/article I published on Steemit. Although it's written about mothers, I think you'll get the gist.

https://steemit.com/poetry/@quillfire/two-beats-poem-a-tribute-to-mothers-of-fallen-soldiers

Quill