I lift my pen today
To write something
Something about which
Many a thousand lines
Written by many a great people
Yet I cannot for sure
Define what we call it ‘love’.

Love is not jealous, they say
Love is not selfish, they say
But the suffocation of evil,
Made me seek good.
That when I discovered a vapour of love
In the malodorous smoke of selfishness and jealousy,
I knew then that my heart had long been waiting
For this fragrant moisture.

Love is blind they say
Love is unbound, they say
But the eyes which had long been blinded
By emptiness and sorrow,
Could today see through the dark flaps of hatred and envy
A light of affection that heals my blindness.
Yes unbound I was, and beastly so
And love today binds me with its gentle hands
In boundaries beyond which lies death.

Love is what I longed
Love is what I got
Love is the question I pose
Love is the answer I give
Love is why I exist
Love is why I shall die
Love is all I know,
Love is all I do.

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