Destiny of Love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is open to interpretation. A personal view of love.

Why is it that, it only "seems" to be?

Never real, or raw, always bounded by "natural laws."

The truth of life, ironically the hardest to face or place, no set destination, just a test of faith.

Love though, the greatest truth of all puzzles me: luck, magic, timing, charm.

There is no "luck of the draw," I loved once, living to tell, truth is in all.

The blanket in which I lay warms me-... that is its purpose.

The words of those around wound and sting, preparing me, battling with sin.

The jewelry given as sentiment shall adorn: even when left behind, the heart yearns holding truth: beating swiftly through and beyond what we call eternity.

And so it may only "seem" like nothing until purpose is exposed: you never know love until truth beholds.

You never touch beauty without your soul, you never feel complete until you've grown.

The unveiled bride has waited for some time: time feeling like knives, composed of lies, from the truth she hides.

The groom compromised, misunderstood, loving while blind. Love will come someday someway, the Greatest truth in destiny's play.

The truth of life, ironically the hardest to face or place.

No set destination, just a test of faith.


Submitted: January 03, 2015

© Copyright 2022 seekerofreality. All rights reserved.

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