This, dear FHN, is for you because you remembered me:
The forlorn but hopeful lover peers into the rubble of death and decay and glimpses what one less inured to such travesty cannot. He sees form, even intricate structure of great complexity, and ultimately, a singular, transcending beauty. This believer in what is not easily read by the ordinary man senses that, in the swirl of visual chaos and stench of life's loss, renewed life and love will assuredly come to birth.
With or without the mere mortal's attendance upon love's reemergence from the grave, this process is an unending cycle: life, death, renewal. The destruction of the young man's heart of beautiful hearts is not an untenable blow to his ego, his unflagging will to survive. Though the ensuing conflagration pretends to destroy eternally all possible hope of love renewed, he who has once mourned love's labors lost knows that the phoenix shall arise resplendent from the ashes. Her song shall be heard and Beauty must shine forth ...
Where the eyes of a slumbering love have yet to fall....