Three Poems On Love by Napoleon Nalcot

Anyone else can give without loving, but to love without giving is impossible.

What Is Love?

'Tis the dewdrop sprinkled at dawn 
That wipes away the dirts of night; 
'Tis the quest ever has been 
Which often pawns a pleasant sight. 

'Tis the Windmill of a curious mind 
That grows so strong or weak at once; 
'Tis the song one freely sings, 
The sweetest moments in a glance. 

'Tis the secret one knows too well 
Yet cannot bear to expound upon; 
But life in it just solely dwells 
To build a throne under the sun. 

'Tis the struggle bound for the deep 
That plays the tune of sacred games; 
And all therein was worth the sought 
To find but pleasure or a claim. 

'Tis the justice all we've seen 
In everything, so pure and plain; 
But most of all love is 
A thing to keep, a thing to gain

Love Is Where the Foolish Hearts Sing

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.

But Love Is Love and Love and Love

But love is love and love and love
And all the fullness it can bring;
A warmth to feel within the heart
That you don't want to miss a thing.

It is the drift to be endured
From out of each a partner's pull;
The only way to truly be
A pure refinement of the soul.

It is to truly understand
The nature of its very core;
But love is love and love and love
And it must be forevermore.

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