Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on bond pomegranate tree, Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.  I love these words from Romeo and Juliet. They’re haunting in their longing–to hold onto a cherished moment for as long as possible, even if it means holding back the dawn. And they’re timeless, not just because they were penned over 400 years go, but because they tap into a primal force–to love and be loved. I’ve always been a…