Is there room for standing when assuming understanding of love?
Which library holds the keys ... endless pages full of mystery?
One lone volume to quell centuries of curiosity
Should we venture to even question, dare to chance suggestion
That love can be defined?
In doing so we find that love comes from the mind,
Thus at last leaving the heart theory behind
Oh, clear the shelves ... make some room ... and prepare your eyes.
This discovery will surely nab the Nobel Prize
Indeed what a crime, to think that all this time,
We had love’s recipe right in our hands
So grab your stirring stick ... drop in a lump or two,
Of emotionless mental servitude
Of course a hint of attraction for good measure,
To insure just the right amount of pleasure.
In the end what you have is what we have had all along,
Just another fatuous book full of pages immersed in wrong