Love Games: Stolen and Borrowed

Love is still the stress, and the ability to accept - a poem.

The place or time seem loony;
Many pieces fail to exhibit
The real promise.
Tones valley into grave lesions,
And splendor speaks
With the conveyance
Of enmity. 

But the dance serves as
A righteous affection -
Layers of curse are expertly
Condemned;
And the links do not require
Vociferous and dignified clues
For consideration,
At odd, deceptive leaps. 

The cognizance burns
And plies warily,
And the warrant newly moated
And missioned;
All is specifically looked at
And redeemed. 

The love of the holiest style
And glamour is imagined,
As promised,
For all the world to see;

And the spirit of contending
Sweet mercy
Becomes a gift
We may cherish
For all eternity,
In this earthly,
Metaphysical realm.