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Candy Michelle Essig

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Tallahassee, FL, US

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So What is Love?

by

Candy Michelle Essig

Is it an emotion straight from the depths of our glorious hearts,
Or is it a mere instinct that appears at the sight of what we consider the pure being?
And Is it natural to feel the tense twisting rivers of love rapidly flow through your body,
And is it normal to feel connected to the earth enough to hear it carelessly sing?

Is it a feeling if you canít immediately identify it,
Or is it just a process that the mind and body takes in like fresh air?
Is it a pain if we canít feel exactly where it is,
No, to name it that is just simply unfair.

If the mind cannot decipher it as temporary or permanent,
Does that have to mean it canít exist as neither
If the heart doesnít know if it is right or wrong,
Does that mean that it is universally incorrect to call it either?

When they say it canít be a feeling because even animals see it,
Does that mean that we have to take it as true?
Could it be that animals can find it,
Just as we can see it, too?

Does love have to be a non-existent feeling?
Or can it be a life form like us?
Can it walk along the streets like strays,
Or can it be just another guy waiting on the bus?

Is it fair to judge love as an instinct,
Before it receives a fair trial,
Shouldnít it have rights too,
Before it walks its last mile?

Do we feel it like we feel the earth move below our bare feet,
And do we see it like the eternal mountains that stand forever proud,
Or do we hear it as we hear the sound of the noble hawk cry,
And can it really become even that loud?

Now I have a query in need of completion.
Who is the man who told us to differ from what is sincerely true,
And how did he entrap us in such vigorous lies?
Did he have the great power to imprison you too?

Did he ever take the time,
This man of no reason,
To look beyond logic and the science of nature,
To look to joy of love and its season?

Is love just a sail less boat on a motionless stream,
And is life just a dream we are dreaming?
And is love the road of forever behind it,
Is it the crystal creek skillfully streaming?

When the wolf sits on the hill top,
And sings his song to the gallant moon,
Couldnít even it this be true love,
Even when it only shows in this wolfís heavenly tune?

Or when we feel the catís regal fur,
And we feel her shake with the rhythm of the earthís beat,
Isnít this ,too, love?
Only with two extra feet?

Is the equation of life only to feel love,
Or is lifeís goal to also understand it beauty,
To hear it talk the same language,
To taste it so cold and fruity.

To walk through a wet forest,
In the light of pure morn,
And to feel natureís royal touch,
Is this also vigorous love being born?

When we can recite,
The call of the white dove,
Does this mean deep within our hearts,
That they have struck the power of love?

To call a male,
A song written by our god of heaven,
And to call a female,
The beauty of Venus times seven.

So what is love?
Is it a feeling of life and of every existence,
Or is it an instinct of instant reaction,
Is it the path of mere resistance.

It can turn hearts to miles and miles of open fields,
And it can lift life to the sky like the wind can guide a bird,
The way it casts such an irresistible spell,
Is just an act that is too absurd .

Can anyone really know the description of such an obsession?
Does anyone know the sight of itís figure, really?
I can certainly say that I do,
Because Iíve met him and his name is Neely.