Love is that little feeling you get when you feel complete.
When you feel like everything is going to be alright.
It is the reason you cry, and the reason you die
It is the reason you thrive, and the reason you strive Love is sharper than a blade and softer than a feather It can cut you and simultaneously bring you to ecstasy Love can make a person and break them.
Love is a passion that burns so brightly
that it even makes the sun jealous.
Love is all powerful;
That even the Gods themselves bow to it
Love is the envy of angels and the tool of demons
Slave of none,
Master of all who feel its touch
The bane of apathy,
and the healer of wounds
One word holding so much meaning
That no poet could ever truly define
Its paradoxical enigma.
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