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To love or not to love, that is the question. |
| Forlorn in demeanor, Thyself with heart in tatters Solemn and beseeched, I'm near the edge Of loves rapturous foreboding precipice Shall my torturous soul Commit it’s self to the abyssal unknowns Of sacrificial acquiescence to thee? A force neither trustworthy nor forgiving As it warms chilled hearts And soothes with passionate death Unwitting those of lesser toils within, True to their salvation, But blind to its deceit And yet give reverence to thee Alas shall I not gaze into eyes of splendor Nor taste passion upon sweet lips? Forsake the essence of purity sought, And forgo righteous happenings within thy being? To this unknown I ponder And thus negates my apotheosis of thee Enlighten my sorrowful remnants of gaiety And subservient obedience to thee As was once remembered At this I shall take that leap of faith And boldly plunge thyself into the depths Of your infinite sanctity |