Love

[I K D R Fennell]

Love is a beautiful bird of paradise, whose sweet song
brings healing to the most bleeding of hearts.
No one knows loves origin and no one can speak of
it's future, some even doubt it's existence.
Yet, undaunted, love searches out those willing hearts
In which it can nest and make good.

Love flies an innocent path, free from complication
And unpolluted by the toxins of agenda.
Breathing only the moment, love glides it's sun kissed
passage without fear or ambition, opening it's
heart to the wonder it's universe bestows.

Love is like the rising phoenix. It frees us from
our shackles and loosens us from our fears within.
New life is breathed into the dullest of existences
And love's magical kiss transforms the harshest
of sounds to the most beautiful of ballads.

Why fear that love has died, because you cannot
see it?
Why fear that love is lost, because you once let
It go?
We should never discount ourselves from love's prize.
For love takes many forms and is far from no one
who wishes to feed from it's beak and share the
pure waters that quench it's thirst.