I did not choose to love –
It came upon me.
I did not call it yet it walked near me
For a while
Then suddenly wrapped me within itself
As it did others.
I did not choose love –
It came upon me.
…I could almost say that love is kind of like a being
For it roams around grabbing people
And stores them in a room they can’t get out.
But ah – I may not say such a thing for love,
Love is made by One who is superior to itself.
He holds it firmly in His Hands and He drops it
Letting it flow to its location by His Will.
“If we love” cries Love’s prisoner “it’s because it isn’t really our will;
It’s a force that even if we tried with our entire might to fight it,
We’d fail to conquer, so we let it be”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem