Is the love I give really mine to begin with? Or is it but a reflection, a flicker of the fire that burned before time began, before hands knew how to hold or hearts knew how to break? Did I forge it from my own depths, or was it poured into me, like water from His side, spilling mercy I could never earn? I offer it freely, but only because He first gave— love unmeasured, love unclaimed, love that was never meant to be kept, only carried, only given again. For love is not mine to own, but His to give through me, a vessel of grace, a whisper of eternity, ever flowing, never ending.