Whither Fate, Thither Love

When gallant barks lie wretched on the shore,
They know not whither Fate shall lead them more.

Love is the compass that guides wandering hearts,
The balm that gathers and mends the shattered parts.

The soft breeze on stormy nights,
Men marched to wars, to battles and to fights;
Felling foes, conquering kingdoms; swords defending knights.
For their children and wives, they were engraved in these brutal sights.

Women sacrificed, nurtured, and worked tirelessly,
Stood up for their loved ones fearlessly.

Is that love not to die for?
So unreal, so magical; is it believed anymore?

Rivers flow, flowers sway, mountains stand tall,
Sweet love stays fresh from spring to fall,
Never fades, never grows old,
Ages like fine wine, timeless as ancient tales told.

The flowing river stagnates with egoistic scum,
Stinks and rots like carrion in the sun…

Letting go of ego, bowing in reverence,
True love is guidance and benevolence.

Control and possession corrode all joy,
Stolen glances and devotion strengthen even the sweetly coy.

Trust is the anchor on which love grows firm and the heart softens,
Loyalty is a safe shelter for orphans.

All these define the essence of love,
Blessed souls are those who feel God's grace from heaven above.

Is that love not to die for?
So unreal, so magical; is it believed anymore?

No, ’tis to live for, wholeheartedly, forever;
It cannot be measured by mortal reckoning whatsoever.