For what is love if not madness,
a sick and sweet loss of mind to power of heart
where dreams eclipse thoughts and desire is given the ultimate authority?
What is love if not a cruel twist of the unspoken bond between
soul and body that one should preserve the other, the outer above the innermost.
Is it not wild and unbroken? And in being so does it not break that
within us which is tamed and true, and above all else
is love not a god inside us that speaks but one  word to bend
our knee at its command. One word to send the
solid and steady to the wind and bring in the
unfurling, unyielding banners of an army
of unstoppable conquest.
And who would dare wall their heart against that host?
O, but many have tried and found greater madness in the resisting
May that be the greatest divinity of this god Love? that his mouth issues
forth only the true and undeniable? There can be no question
to the name, the word, the face that this Love calls upon?
For Love does not draw an untrue bow, simply
does not peal the horn in vanity or half-measures
It can only be that love when spoken by the one who sits the throne
of our own heart desire is the love that bears no second thought or reproach.
And when Love raises his hand and the mind falls quiet
when he waves his arm and the world grows pale
he stands, and all reason abides
his lips curl and in his voice beyond hearing
the command is given, the fire ignites, the word is issued forth
and that word, my love, is you.'

The End

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