To Love

To love is to believe in souls,
Their worth, amid the entropy;
To love is to discern the joy
That flows through human misery —

We see. We love. We look beyond
The essence and the ghost:
And oftentimes, it weighs us down,
For she who cares the most
Carries the most —

To love is to with colors paint
A world of ideality,
And only love can ease the pain
Of this, our sad reality —

For time, the tide inexorable,
Must take us where it will,
And we can either
Pass by love’s pure spring

Or drink

Our fill

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Beleaguered Servant