I tried to imagine love
And there it was
Of a creature no different than any other
But of such particulars

I had the notion this was a myth
No idea beauty like this exist
Heeded the narrative of a spark in the eyes
A glow that enticed the blind

Ideally I thought it a folktale
Some sort of a tender tell
Just bedside story
To bring about sweet dreams

Believed it the hearsay of legends
Dust spread by the sandman
Nothing less than glitter
But now I see it is no rumor

Its presence left me adrift
Wandering if in literature there is to be a rift
Hidden details writers are reluctant to outline in the pages
Truth they do not know how to summarize into phrases

The bards refer to it as a boon
Being over the moon
Moments that fate in its wool gathering
Weaved out of a dream

In the ancient tablet of Eden
It was written for the chosen ones
Selected by the spirits above
On the eve of love