This Thing Called Love

This thing called love, oh, tell me what it means! Is it what breathes and lives in gilded dreams? Is it the searing burn of hungry kiss? Or languid afterglow of passion’s bliss? This thing called love, is it like stormy sea? A pounding of confines, till it runs free? Is love a need that one must satiate? A craving to indulge, to subjugate? Define this love, now tell me, what you know! Is it a tiny seed that time will grow? Is love serene and tranquil like a prayer? Perhaps a savage warrior on a dare? This thing called love you think you can define You pick your words and string them line by line To fit your world, your needs, your safety net but what you give to it, that’s what you’ll get I know of love; I’ll let you have a look It’s all of these, yet undefined by book The essence of a life, it’s a desire to be engulfed by love’s consuming fire It is to me obsession’s jealous flame Baptized by fire, your life is not the same it is to live or die for whom you love To burn in hell for love or soar above Eileen Manassian December 13, 2018 12:25 am