Love cannot be articulated, it can be expressed during experience,
never to meet vain or envy. Worshiping all romance and
valuing everything. Pulling strain on everything else, resulting
in complete loss of value, if the love is true. Slow, feeling rapid,
waking conscious to both involved. Poet’s praise as others weep
in jealous-joy. Blooming flowers. The entire being is overwhelmed.
Never to meet the kind of love, that others do, that is somehow
always falls short, in its confinement of normal living and talk of
that the love I share with thy soulmate, does not exist. They
have never been and whimper in times of honest reality or at
the time of yearning redemption at death.