WHAT IS LOVE?

The ache of a sharp, twisting knife
In the heart of an unsuspecting victim
Sees not the face of the attacker
But feels the pain of a massacre
Never is that LOVE

Respects not, of course cold and rife
Unchecked, can twist the soul to limp
The price of pride, it must surrender
Pressure of peace that does not hinder
Sometimes, that is LOVE

Replaces hurt where hate once thrived
Shouts with joy, singing a new hymn
Reverses the pain that causes splatter
Cleaning it up with warmth of lather
Usually, that is LOVE

Soothes the mighty soul in all its strife
Shakes but does not stir, keeping its limb
Requests nothing, not even mere flatter
Shares in abundance all the splendor
Forever, that is LOVE
And that is you!