Manner of Love

Poets speak the language of love

Choruses oft sing its song.

Authors write verses of its lore

Whilst angels proclaim it to the throng.

Love, like Janus the ancient,

Doth assume diverse form and faces,

It knows no barriers twixt man nor, beast

Has not limit for gender nor races

Love, a conception, desire its cradle,

To bond kindred spirits bereft of all fears,

For some but a word, a tool for their want,

To others, a cloth to wipe away old tears.

What word hath more power when spoken in truth?

Speak from your heart, in voice ever clear.

For gifted to all, understood by so few

That the manner of love may be preserved ever dear.

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