By Tony DeLorger © 2011
When love finds you there is no escape,
no hurried rush for the door, bags in hand.
When love finds you your heart is captive,
unable to draw breath without its warm embrace.
No searching meant, no lust procure,
can save you from the complicity of love.
It holds your heart in blissful abandon,
too weak to struggle, too in amid to want to.
Love is the ruler of hearts, the conqueror of fear,
the righteous throne of human aspiration.
Without cause, without expectation,
we can be thrown to our knees, helpless.
But for where love ends is another issue,
another more practical human address.
For love finds its own path,
often far in another direction.
We the refuse, stand undone,
the pale comparison of loves intent.
But love’s path is without reason,
only the emotion swept cause of itself.
We poor humans cower under its strength,
its irrepressible conviction,
to be cast aside, waiting to be once again found,
and delivered, if only momentarily, to paradise.
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