Of Love

A Sonnet

Of love we write, and of love we must sing

To fool our minds that this love doth exist

We mask our selves, adorn ourselves with rings

This myth of love is one we can’t resist.

We languish in malaise, our thoughts distraught 

Our lives muted, our passion’s fire tam’ed

Lest love doth pull our heart strings till they’re taught

And cold existence becomes inflam’ed

Now as a babe, our lives feel refresh’ed

Enslaved to fervour and insanity 

The writhing ardour of our minds bless’ed

Drowned in shallow waters of vanity 

Now from languorous slumber awakened 

Let not our pure souls be forsaken.