Poem: Love
"What is love? That which cannot be defined. It comes in different forms, different styles and different reasons. It comes without knowing and with knowing full well. It cannot be caught restrained or held, it cannot be seen, touched or felt. Though its forms may vary from one to the next, though its appearance may change from each the past to the future, those who find it live together, in harmony. Have I found it, can the undefinable be defined? Can inner feelings rise from ashes of an already burnt fire and change those around him and the one he loves, or does not love? Can he be helped, is he doomed to wallow in self-pity until ages of old? Or is there more, more to this tale of woe, more than one, but two, who combined share passions of great ambitions of which only those who know of its full power can fathom? A simple flirt, a simple hug, a simple kiss, may scratch at the limestone of the soul to carve intricate patterns in its deep golden hue. If the scratches grow too deep the limestone will crack and break and fall upon each other to support one another. To know love is impossible, To feel love is natural, To feel love for another, uncommon, To feel loving passion for another, indescribable and rare. The feeling may be rarer than a bountiful treasure, but once the lid is lifted over its dusty exterior lies an unforgettable feeling, and an unforgettable picture, thus trying to find either is futile, they will find you and you may or may not know until it is too late. Just hope, that the scratches in your limestone do not go so deep they cannot be healed, or allow your limestone to break only to be met by emptiness, and a dark abyss."