There are no words to describe it
There is no way to define it.
There are many ways to kill it
There are but few ways to revive it.
It is eternal.
In life
In death.
It holds the truth
But just as many lies.
Forever hiding
Forever attention seeking.
Always hurting
Always healing.
Everyone has it
Some use it
Few show it
Others exploit it; corrupt it.
Despite all that
Love is a gift.
Love is its own culture
Its own conscience.
Its own mystery
Its own adventure.
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Author:
Owen Osborne (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 18th, 2017 13:50
- Comment from author about the poem: I'm not too sure about this one. I like it, but I just don't think its the best that I can do. What do you guys think?
- Category: Love
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: Moom
Offline)
Comments2
Thank you Owen.
Love such a powerful emotion. Love conquers all.
Keep writing
FineB
This picture of many faceted love which penned so well shows that your gift for expression will ask for no more than space on paper - - keep that ink flowing Owen.
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