LOVE: An Art, A Sound, The Dire Need

Love is Mother Natures marvelous work of art;
Where it involves the mightiest and a pure innocent heart,
It neither counts beauty nor on those who are smart
But a rigid commitment is required from the early start.
Every individual has to evenly play their own part,
Has to take in oath to sustain all season and never depart,
And aid in hoisting it tall, to strengthen and safeguard
As the failure of one would tear all of them apart.

Love ain't always joyous but pain as well is in bound,
As life is not always about a merry go round around.
Maybe the accomplishment of it is like being with a crown
But then down it brings and bury the spirit in the ground,
With the lamest of the excuses and numbness so profound
And nothing to cling unto but the darkness that surround,
Impaired and weakened eyes swerved to form a frown,
Leaving behind the brokenness and an astonishing astound
Pathetic and sympathetic, the lost soul might never be found.

Love is not some evils curse but a blessing indeed,
A possession presented on the overcome of greed;
The award rewarded for one's well behaved deed;
By the Almighty above through his angelic Cupid.
It is the circumstance for His peaceful terms agreed.
Love is not a flower, neither a fruit nor a seed,
Not even flesh nor a bone but if wounded it would bleed.
Love is a phenomena for all and one cannot randomly forbid.
It is the most purest entity that one needs to succeed.
And without it, one is nothing but a complete stupid.