Conquest in the Shadows

They chant the old songs, “Love conquers all,”

But the hymn fades thin, a distant, fragile call.

The world feeds on fury, hungry for the sting,

Hatred’s the headliner, the media’s darling.

Viral venom courses through the endless feed,

Each swipe and share, a cruelty guaranteed.

Love is dissected on a cold, digital stage,

“Naive,” “Impractical,” the verdicts of the age.

A heart offered up? A target for their scorn,

Tenderness trampled, its petals are torn.

“Too weak for this world,” the cynics declare.

Spite grows rampant, a feast beyond compare.

Yet, in whispers beneath the deafening roar,

Love weaves its resistance, its unseen war.

A hand reaching out from the depths of despair,

A tear of compassion, a kindness to share.

In unlit corners, where shadows convene,

Love conquers battles the world hasn’t seen.

A flicker of warmth amidst the bitter strife,

In fragile acts that cradle fragile life.

The cynics may scoff, their eyes blind to the grace,

Lost in the spectacle, the venomous chase.

But love, ever patient, endures the long night,

Its conquest unsung, yet burning so bright.

Though the world may turn its back, may dismiss its worth,

Love renews its promise with each fragile birth.

For in the quiet revolutions of the unseen,

Love’s silent victories colour the in-between.