To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Life of Love The heart is weak. It falls easily and without warning. The laconic periods between the fall and rise of the heart is mind-blowing. The first time we lay eyes on the subject of the fall, it is as if we have begun a new life. We are born into this “hunt” of the creature we desire. We slip into the traditions of old, and allow ourselves to go back to the dawn of man and track our prize. For many of us, it is futile; the elusive creature has slipped through the cracks of our fingers yet again. We are never able to fulfill our quest. We then die to the hopelessness that is our own love. We realize—or think—we will never have our love returned. Then we stumble upon our love in the midst of ours searching. And our weak heart is now full of fervor and strength; we live once again. |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!