What is in this word,
A written scripted thought,
That grows as knowledge does,
As sweet as learning thus,
But one word holds me right
L o v e spelt,
Which process makes rain,
A rhythm melancholic,
A song of sanguine,
Sang by a dictated choleric,
Upon an unripe icon,
That is cooked with dreams
To the delight of tongue beams
Which pragamatic process makes sweet
A word exceeding ocean’s
Creating seas
A word changing hearts
And make a hero of me
A word though for joy sake
A word for sadness glow
Does bring light in darkness and ignite a flame Life
Parting wars to a still slumber,
Without it everything will fall.
This word
A word creating
A word God
Spelt L-O-V-E Love.
Truth be not disquieted:
Love really isn’t some pious deeds or benevolent gestures; Love just can’t be that. Love is a Being, and speaks of the Almighty God. It is from Being Love that love is found; Love us the source of love. Without him, there can’t be genuine love. God himself is Love and not just the Source of true love.
God is love.