I am full of love.
Not sure what that means.
Is it just a feeling?
Maybe truth, maybe dreams.
Is it something deep inside
that smoulders away?
It waits for that spark
to see the light of day.
Perhaps I just imagine
that, and actively promote,
something lingering on
both distant and remote.
I try to grab it,
hold onto it tight,
but it slips from my grasp,
like eels in the night.
I yearn to quantify it;
measure its worth;
retain the content
before it's lost in the earth.
I seek to find it,
each day of my life,
in people around me,
in family and wife.
But it changes
unceasingly all the time.
Is subtle and fickle;
above all sublime.
The essence of love
is an unending quest,
to find, share and store,
till our spirits rest.
This is a very thought invoking poem that asks the question what is love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A good love poem. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks.