It is the majestic orb that hangs in the light blue oblivion
But the silver mirror that only barely lightens the shadow

The only element that causes one to see through glass of thick and wavy
At the same moment the so pure and thin
The one thing that causes one, for once, to take a look through them both
And see the world as whole

No one can put it into words that are pure enough
Or enlighten it without lips of Cupid
Or tongues of the heavenly divine
No mortal can or ever will, though endless have took on the quest

For, in this case we are all but children
Children showered in illusion
Though always from the frozen mountains breath
But never from beggars’ tears

Still throughout all time it has touched every soul
And caused Fate to force her steady hand
So every encounter ends in tears
Of happiness or pain

The ones who have known dare not speak its name
The ones who have touched dare not speak its force
The people who are waiting and searching cannot find it
It is the only thing lost until it is found
But the only thing not found until it is lost

It is a gift
It is a torture

It is a Saint
And still a Sinner

But yet we all long for it deep within our souls
For it is the strongest bond of human nature
But still we can not perceive it when it is fluttering past our sights
Or give it anything other than the simple four letters of love

Every time it chooses to land
It bears a new form
And spreads all new wings
A takes a new description


It is different in all eyes
And separate in all hearts


Is it is a stranger to everyone but one
The one to whom it chooses to bless

A human of this world can never speak it
Even the most skillful weavers of words can never embraced its true form
Because they are not you
Only you can word the way you heart names love
Only you can describe the way its cover feels
The only way you can perceive it in truth in your eyes
Is to become a weaver of words yourself

And once one becomes a weaver of words then,
One can become a giver of love