What Is Love?
'Tis the dewdrop sprinkled at dawn That wipes away the dirts of night; 'Tis the quest ever has been Which often pawns a pleasant sight. 'Tis the Windmill of a curious mind That grows so strong or weak at once; 'Tis the song one freely sings, The sweetest moments in a glance. 'Tis the secret one knows too well Yet cannot bear to expound upon; But life in it just solely dwells To build a throne under the sun. 'Tis the struggle bound for the deep That plays the tune of sacred games; And all therein was worth the sought To find but pleasure or a claim. 'Tis the justice all we've seen In everything, so pure and plain; But most of all love is A thing to keep, a thing to gain
Love Is Where the Foolish Hearts Sing
Love is where the foolish hearts sing Of songs--of melodies unchained By time's uneasy lead of hand Towards a reasoning out-brained. Love is where the artists portray That only landscape may appear From out the deepness of the soul One comes to search out unaware. Love is where one truly gets lost Only to find out that a way To Perfect Land's eternity Is having what should matter most.
But Love Is Love and Love and Love
But love is love and love and love And all the fullness it can bring; A warmth to feel within the heart That you don't want to miss a thing. It is the drift to be endured From out of each a partner's pull; The only way to truly be A pure refinement of the soul. It is to truly understand The nature of its very core; But love is love and love and love And it must be forevermore.