deepundergroundpoetry.com
Love Truly
Love is an illusion.
True love even more delusion.
A mirage of desperate hope.
Built on shifting sand in misty dreams.
Pledged to a thing called human,
we really neither know nor understand.
A pledge burdened and conditioned,
in ways explicit, implicit, sometimes illicit.
And it is the not yet revealed, known, understood or accepted that dooms love.
Before its inception.
Before time itself.
Still we fight for it.
Risk our lives for it.
For what? … is it?
But the bondage of our flawed or incomplete evolution.
The chains of a desire that cannot be quenched.
For fate offers true love to only the fortunate few.
Chance says that’s neither me nor you.
True love even more delusion.
A mirage of desperate hope.
Built on shifting sand in misty dreams.
Pledged to a thing called human,
we really neither know nor understand.
A pledge burdened and conditioned,
in ways explicit, implicit, sometimes illicit.
And it is the not yet revealed, known, understood or accepted that dooms love.
Before its inception.
Before time itself.
Still we fight for it.
Risk our lives for it.
For what? … is it?
But the bondage of our flawed or incomplete evolution.
The chains of a desire that cannot be quenched.
For fate offers true love to only the fortunate few.
Chance says that’s neither me nor you.
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