What is love?
Is it the outstretched hand of grace,
Helping those who are abandoned and in pain?
Is love the magnetic pull between lovers,
Enchanting both into a realm of splendor?
Or is it the inner calm,
That fills you while you witness God paint the sky
magnificent colors?
Is love the moments in which
The dam of your heart bursts open
Because life is so bittersweetly beautiful?
Surely,
I can't reckon which one is true,
But love must be true
Inherently
Maybe it's a mixture of mind and heart
That leads to the conclusion of love
For true love
Can neither be rash
Nor too cold
It must be balanced,
And directed by the Soul.