This evocative poem explores love’s transformative power, likening it to a precious treasure and a symbol of royalty.
It is a treasure won,
Like it, leisure none.
It makes you a king,
A crown on your ring.
Life has no meaning,
If you have no yearning.
It separates from the animal,
Raises higher than the angel.
It steals your sleep at night,
Yet your eyes care not a bit.
You tread another time,
You follow a different rhyme.
Hunger and you become friends,
Consumed are you in her thoughts.
All your habits change,
Senses act in another range.
It is the source of your pride,
On its waves you enjoy the ride.
Is it not called
What cannot be told?
Is it not called
Which cannot be sold?
Is it not called
The same by the young and old?
Is it not called:
Love is what it’s called.
July 27 2010. Edit March 2024
