Love
Poem I wrote a few months ago.
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Love is often just taken as things; gift boxes, presents, sugar coated things. Hands held as you walk, words spoken soft caresses, and kisses, and fairytale wings.
Love is supposed among those who agree, who see everything perfect in the other they see, a perfect matching of sameness of kind, but this is the only love that is blind.
Awake and aware, true love is a fire; willing to give, and never receive. Willing forgiveness, willing to teach willing to discipline and never deceive.
Love tells the truth although it can hurt, love even pulls enemies up from the dirt. Love is a prayer cried out for a stranger; Love is a gift, out to a neighbor.
Love is a parent that disciplines a child; Love is a gentle hand, taming the wild. Love is the judge and the law and the truth; love pulls out evil up from the roots.
Love is the Savior bent, broken and bleeding; hung on the cross, thorns piercing his flesh. Love is what broke the legs of the tiger, before it could run towards the eye of a gun.
