Thursday, December 27, 2007

Love

 

'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.

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