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Love is a fire that burns unseen,
A wound that aches yet isn't felt,
An always discontent contentment,
A pain that rages without hurting,
A longing for nothing but to long,
A loneliness in the midst of people,
A never feeling pleased when pleased,
A passion that gains when lost in thought.
It's being enslaved of your own free will;
It's counting your defeat a victory;
It's staying loyal to your killer.
But if it's so self-contradictory,
How can Love, when Love chooses,
Bring human hearts into sympathy? (en) |
