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
To share is human:
