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Love is blind, or so it is said,
Though that may not be rightly so.
It allows our hearts to be led,
And we choose whether to reap and sow.
Our eyes are wide open, and we leap,
We saw it coming, yet chose to hope.
We cannot expect any heart to keep,
Love is a gift, not a binding rope.
The cycle is inevitable, the reason for the heart,
Love fully, hurt deeply, love again and eternal.
These things remind us we are a small part,
Of something much more vast and illimitable.
Seeking love is a common, fruitless desire,
And rarely succeeds, even with much ado.
Like will always find like, and ignite a fire,
Burning white and blue, consuming fully and true.
Compassion should be embedded within the soul,
Yet this is painfully and woefully untrue.
When love is absent, hate tends to make us full,
And often times does not allow love to spring anew.
Walk with me in a world without hatred,
It can be so, of this I am quite certain.
We allowed it to breed, it must be annihilated,
For we cannot the essential oneness attain.
Love should not be bounded, nor should it be a cure.
Love is a force, a cycle, an attractor and sublime.
Love freely, love everyone whether rich or poor.
Love completely, and fully, but never again be blind.
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