'Tis strange thoughts that mind was haunt,
Brazen stance awash thy fortitude
Naught besmeared with unsightly hope
In deep slumbereth pierced thy mystifying reverie.
Love is strange yet potent as a sword
It could perforate one's heart when oblivious
It navigates to feed thy soul
It fills one's heart with anticipation.
Love is indeed an ever-fixed mark
The origin unknown yet it beckons
To trust...to hope...total abandon
Trenchant wound at the end has no room.
It could lead to a zilch or magnificent ending
It could mar one's soul beyond mending
Yet, how one would know
If the heart's door would not open?
'Tis love that one feels alive
The ember of magical sensation stirs
The sagacity of elation burns
Thread of passion connects two souls.
