The Mechanics of Romantics

All things have purpose and meaning within,
deciphered, at cost, by those of keen mind.
Surely, this dream they call love is akin,
with mechanics and rules of its own kind.

Evidence traces back thousands of years,
and billions today try their best to make sense,
of all the hopes and the joys and the fears,
that have made, do make, and will make us hence. 

What we need is a Newton or Einstein,
who can decipher the shape of the heart,
then find the equation for which we pine,
so we have control o'er falling apart. 

Where, then, is the soul to conquer the tear?
It comes in the form of an engineer.

Written 20 September 2017
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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September 21, 2017 at 6:45 AM
An excellent sonnet, some great lines and very intelligently written.. Great title..
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September 21, 2017 at 10:49 PM
Many thanks!
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