After the purity of true love has passed,
All else that follows just shadows it.
They are all make-believe,
Bending and taking alternative forms in the part of obstructions.
Dark in their reality,
They attempts to follow in the footstep of what is perfect.
Sometimes they come close,
Sometimes they stay far,
But always they trails beneath.
Dull in their form, having
No color or life of their own -
They are Insufficient!
In times of darkness
They are seen for the nothingness they really are.
Your heart feeds them the remnants of what was;
Love's waves never crest as high -
To true love
All other is a lie.
Copyright © 2007 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem