So, what is Love? The Clod and the Pebble by William Blake (1794)

"The poem was first published in (1794). In the poem, a clod (a small clump of earth or clay) and pebble put forward two very different definitions of love. The clod, representing the more optimistic—and perhaps naive—perspective, views love as a kind of radical selflessness, in which giving and self-sacrifice are all-important. The pebble disagrees, declaring instead that love is in fact pure selfishness, something that only seeks to please itself. In the end, the poem leaves it up to the reader to make up their own mind about the true nature of love.

Love doesn't try to make itself happy. It doesn't care about itself at all. Instead, it sacrifices its own comfort for others, and creates its own kind of Heaven even within the misery of Hell."

At least, that's according to a little lump of clay, who is often squashed by cow's walking overhead. But a pebble in a nearby stream sang out this tidy response:

"Love only wants to make itself happy, and to make others dependent on it. Love takes pleasure in other people's discomfort, and creates Hell even in the middle of Heaven."

"Love seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care,

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

So sung a little Clod of Clay

Trodden with the cattle's feet,

But a Pebble of the brook

Warbled out these metres meet:

"Love seeketh only self to please,

To bind another to its delight,

Joys in another's loss of ease,

And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

https://www.litcharts.com/poetry/william-blake/the-clod-and-the-pebble

So, what is Love?

Khalil Gibran wrote:

When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

Paul wrote:

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.

You could have your own definition for Love, but for me:  love is a red thread, whom I wrote about in my novel "Threads For Life". May the red thread guide you to find love.