Love

Everyone writes about love. They sing about it, dance about it, search for it. It's a fascinating subject, after all. It's something that gives the entire human race some common ground, 'cause come on! Who hasn't loved someone? So here is my own consideration of everyone's favorite muse, though I doubt that it will be the last.




Love is a being so strange
That it's hard to conceive
By this earth-soiled mind in my head.
How can one whose mere breath
I should worship
Long to make me adjacent her heart?
Disregarding all norms
My heart beats a sweet hymn
Responding to hers,
A battle-charge leading me
Into her arms.
Yet on my swift darkening way
My strength might be lost;
I might halt;
I might die.
But Love makes a bond
That refutes Death's embrace,
Calls me back from the dead,
Back to Love.
For Love makes a Phoenix of me,
And the ashes of Death will prove fertile.