It is, what it is, how it is,

Your the promise in my land,You’re Everything to me.

Yet, understood and feltAnd heard,A love that lives,As if divine,Silently, purely,Says ‘your mine’A love that crosses,All of TimeBut greets Eternity,Each time.

And most goose-stepping people,Can’t seem to be able to think,On their ownOr even do the right thing.

Poetry attracts,Does not disguiseFeelings that lie,Way Within.We known notWhen or whereIt starts,These trembling dartsOf loving win,Nor how they canDescribe so wellSo many secret tiesAttached, hiddenWay within,Nor how it can.This epic standExtend a loveThat never diesBut must illuminateThe skies,With a force,That only PoetryCan play and winFrom way within.

Some see it as milk and honey,Others just as a possession.

What better couldOur fleeting days,Expect to beMade of,For without loveLife can’t exist,At least for someThat’s how it is.