...That love, which made my gentle uncle wild,
Might also change a painted girl to gold.
The dream that smiled and trailed it's silken wing
Was what my uncle grieved for; and I thought
The truth of love was that in truth, for him,
Lost Hattie Bloom became that perfect thing.
I am also reading a Rumi (Sufi poet) poem a day, and I smile in seeing that Mary and Rumi merge in union today, nearly undifferentiated except by about 700 years. The poetry of Mary I suspect might be recited one day as millions memorize Rumi, though Mary's messages of love alchemy for the soul are not as direct as Rumi, Hafiz, and other poets of this tradition. Rumi used images of camels, wine, emeralds, and mirrors while Mary uses bird and tree. Both though speak of grief, loneliness, and the gift that life is. If we could but only accept loss and death we might see our perfection in both silken and broken wing.
Has love ever grown stronger for you after you lost the stimulus for that great desire?