Willfull Pursuit


In the realm of love, where hearts intertwine,
where passion blooms and souls align,
there lay a notion of some conceived,
of a love coerced, where bonds can’t breathe.

But listen closely, dear seeker of truth,
and I shall unveil eternal love’s sleuth:

No force exists in love’s embrace.

No chains, no shackles, no oppressive space.

For love, sweet love, born free as a bird,
is essence and free from man’s single word.

It blooms in hearts, ignites and desires,
an ember that kindles most passionate fires.
No power can bind it, no mandate constrain,
for love’s more than feelings, and not to be feigned.

Love means one’s freedom, a most willfull choice,
hearts set on singing in harmony’s voice,
it’s song like a flower, unable to stand
the weight of coercion; it withers in hand.

Let Love, if love, flow, like river so grand,
its boundaries more ancient than postmodern’s plans.
Embrace its free spirit. Greet its true form.
Find its face somwhere near hearthplace reborn.

Forced love is illusion, in tales sadly true;
Love’s hidden magic …. is willfull pursuit.

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