On Love Poem by Lord Dylan ParrishSubda of Sealand

I saw her face,
And my heart caught fire.
Of all the human race,
‘tis her I most desire.

Love, all have said,
Is a game that can’t be won,
Sure as man needs be fed
And flowers need the sun.

But as these things need others
So have I a need of her.
The scream for her inside me smothers
My need to shake and stir.

No more is that distress
From when I’d seize all through the nigh’
No longer is love the mistress
Of failed attempts to fly.

For in her eyes is my salvation,
In her breath am I redeemed.
In her soul is a new nation
In which love is high esteemed.

“But how is one to win the heart? ”
Men question day and night.
The answer comes right from the start
Of when you fight the noble fight.

We must view “winning” in perspective
For we can win what we can’t lose.
The game of life is retrospective
Of the loves we pick and choose.

In her touch I plainly see
That, through her, these games are won.
I’ll give her every bit of me
And even then I shan’t be done.

For she deserves much more
Than just a body and a soul.
I’ll burrow down right to my core
And deliver her the hole.

Then when I’ve given far exceeding
That which I have to give,
Our love will still go on proceeding
Till we’ve no life left lo live.

Thus, my friends, ‘tis happy truth
That love may, conquered, be.
And its secret lays not in one’s youth
But in loving righteously.