To wander amongst fields of roses madder than you; to merge in a serene accomplishment and taste the wonders of loves success.
To feel the touch of a love in the dark that fans in daylight a white fire eternal. We seek not truth and stay confounded by what draw moths to flame; this thing called Love.
Am I not flesh; how do I feel, this heart, this thing called Love?
Show me today, show me my way, to this thing called Love
Azriel
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem