True Love

TRUE LOVE People often ask, what is true love It’s many things, simple and complex No definition can adequately serve At whatever age, it generates verve A journey not straight, but a curve And in its ideal form, always duplex Even illogical when seen from above True love may appear simple at first But defies all reasonable explanation Matters of the heart shun the brain Some think one can go quite insane As it swoops down to conquer again It happens, and there’s no preparation And somehow always slakes that thirst Those believing that their love is true Would say never to try and understand It exists in a kind of void, even ethereal And even finding its secret is immaterial Building loyalty like a long running serial Its form is not generic, but has no brand Yet asked why one loves, say, I just do