Caught at love, left at love...
incorrigible passions overextended.
Who so, and how so came to be--
he/she entire, given to it.
Who, what afforded them the singsong
of the heart's blood?
Slight mouth to utter of it, kiss upon it...
these heights were weathered to syphon
singular Source.
Foretold of but once, gaining unfulfilled
prophecy by all born of it.
Love itself a labor of...all labor back to itself.
An incentive took to our core in advance
of us.
Beyond all sound retreat, love has been our
steadfast apocalypse.
As was lent purgatory, divisive pathways atone--
as holds true love Is, and love Is what bore
worth loving.
The soul has been fetched from start to finish,
breadth bare love.