When does one know love?
Some claim first sight. From what well do they draw? I mean to say, an entity so involved wars have been staged, lives have changed.
A word that powerful song follows poetry birds regal.
If it were known the pain, the beautiful pain, would the world stop on her glance? Could I fly to a star in her eye on chance of romance?
So than is romance the prize? Or the dealer in a game of chance? When life challenges the soul, when it asks stay or go is the asking the answer?
When does one know?
At the beginning or end? Some say not first sight at all but last knowledge bears the fruit. All the dowry drawn out love has her way.
The final destination revealing bare truth beyond words or promises she tugs tears of pain, oh joyful pain.
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