Love

Love is in the air, they say

as the miasma of lust poisons their minds

they fancy themselves falling in love

then wonder how they became destroyed by the impact

The wise warn them when they can, about the dangers of an open heart

but the young, naive, and delusional, still think life a fairy tale

They think love an elixir

A glorious drug

Which soothes all pains

satiates all wants

and rights all wrongs

But love is not that

The wise men know what love is

Love is a firm hand, guiding an unruly child

Love is patience with an ill or aging parent

Love is giving up your comfort, for the comfort of another

Love is having the courage to always speak the truth, even when the truth is you are wrong

So now, I hear you ask, but is it rare?

Well let me ask you, does the world make you feel loved?

When you step out into the bitter bite of winter winds

Or the scalding rays of a summer sun

Where hardly a soul is willing to look upon you, before they have comforted themselves

Love is so rare you cannot find it in nature

Nor can you find it at the bottom of a bottle

Or in the back rooms of a brothel

Love, must be found in the hearts of those like us

Those who are also extending their love into the world

Those that stand by their love, and commit to the work

Who aren’t just looking to ride the high of novelty,

with another pull of lust, from the bottle of degenerate liquor

Love is the force that creates, builds and mends

And in the growing entropy of an uncaring universe

It grows rarer by the second