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
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