“Whenever a love is contingent upon a specific factor, when that factor vanishes, the love ceases. If, however, the love is not contingent upon a specific factor, it will never cease.”
~ Pirkei Avot 5:16

The remains of torn wrappings

crinkle and rustle underfoot,
their once-vibrant ruddy trappings
now a dull hue of soot.

Like a myopic vandal
through dusty remnants I wade,
lured by an incandescent candle
and starry serenade.

My eyes came to adore
that which decays over time,
enraptured by external galore
and picturesque pantomime.

All this has taken its toll –
between us now a wall and rift,
for instead of seeking the soul,
I had worshipped the wrappings

of the gift.