The Ringmaster Unseen

Love, like a baby, cries in the night. For a mother with suckling breast to fill a hungry stomach. For a father to lift it high in the air- Eyes ablaze with awe. Love, like a doe, taunts a hunter with deceiving speed thru the trees- Skipping then sprinting again. Is not love surer of foot? Is not love tighter of grasp? Is not love stronger to hold than the snapping noose- Leaving a body choking, bruised, and aching upon the ground, Never silently swaying to the creaking limb? Must love play, like a harlequin, the game of fools? One in love. One longing for another. One sincere. One sorry for insincerity's sake. Love is a knife thrown at a spinning target. Love is a cry for help carried by wind to some passerby. Love is pure like poison-a gift to the soul that longs to fly. Love is cool like drops of rain rising to a flood. Love, like a mystery, moves our souls to search. To find clues to ourselves. To bumble thru a perilous tale. Love is funny to watch, Frightening to feel. Love... The ringmaster unseen.