Love is where the foolish hearts sing
Of songs--of melodies unchained
By time's uneasy lead of hand
Towards a reasoning out-brained.
Love is where the artists portray
That only landscape may appear
From out the deepness of the soul
One comes to search out unaware.
Love is where one truly gets lost
Only to find out that a way
To Perfect Land's eternity
Is having what should matter most.