Love be a sacrifice on altars of ideals,
A communion with the dreams of someone;
Love be a sharing of how loving feels,
A grand leap of faith to the heart of the sun.
Love be a high on a peak of euphoria,
Or drop to the depths of a fathomless pit;
Love be a vividly fixed moratoria,
Emotional jigsaws that don't always fit.
Love be a snowfall of virginal whiteness,
The fresh morning dew on the first day of spring;
Love be the sky in a summer of brightness
Or cold autumn half-light, grey and fading.
Love be a holy crusader on earth,
A despotic tyrant who spares not the rod;
Love be the cry of an infant at birth,
The passport to heaven, the right hand of God.
Love be a puzzle, a box of surprises,
An instant of wonder to last evermore;
Love be a collage of glorious devices,
A certain uncertainty, sure yet unsure.
Love be whatever means most in existence,
Sometimes familiar, ambiguous or new;
Love be subjective, so hence my insistence:
Love be whatever...whatever be you.
Categories:
moratoria, love, autumn,
Form: Verse