who knows what tommorow may bring
of sadness and sorrow
of hope and happiness
till thou dost perish amongst the burdensome worry, or burn brightly in your love
'tis the rose that smells so sweet that cannot be described in so few a word
nor in scriptures of epic proportions
that drives one
until he finds the very rose for himself
our money, our strength, our knowledge and our very self, our ego, all are labours of love
of one form or another
evil or good unbeknownst
love...
is love...
has always been love...
will always be love...
unconditionally, unthinkingly, and undoubtingly...
until the flames engulf the world...
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