The Nature of it

Is it shared or attributed, or solely distributed

Can one feel it without reaction or reflection

Does one hide it for the fear of rejection

Is the look in one’s eyes a clue to its prize

Is its feel in a kiss defined as pure bliss

Does a parent feel it for an unborn child absent of any smile

Does the child also feel it for the parent without the manifest of any earthly trial

Is it merely an emotion, or a fate of commotion

Does its connection require a physical trope

Does it decry a connective rope

Is it action or reaction, reflection or preclusion, involvement or delusion

Does it require a specific devotion

Is there only one chapter, is the second the rapture

Can simple words even provide the answer

Is one like another, or are there various levels

Is it feeling or action or amindless reaction

Does a choice make a play or does destiny stay

Can the thought be abused and the word seem misused

Is there peace in the sense of its shared path of hence

Is it who that is real, or of what that’s the seal

Is the frame that’s ideal like a junction or creel or is liking of such told as this as a crutch

Is it finite or eternal to escape the fraternal

Did it start in this life or is it destiny’s strife

Did a mystical dance bring this moment or chance

Can the laws of old voice its quest to behold and if those rules are not followed is its feeling not hallowed

If its trust is left broken, does it lay as a token

If its song does ring true do mistakes not renew

Is its force that’s unable to bring thought to the table

Is our soul that belongs to its tryst in the song

If it’s that which is known then our mights don’t belong

Is it the meaning of life or of personal strife

And the question upholds is it lust that unfolds

Is its thought to unveil as the deeper we dwell as the fight and the hell

Is it its song we must sell

Does the bond that’s left broken see through death of it spoken

Is its heal of the wound it may kill or the lessons sublime that seem real or the end of a flight make it less of that fight

Does the hurt feel much more with its truth at its core

Is it a function of thrill or a possessive of will

Is it a device so righteous or a feature of devine bias

If we think of its depth, is its ownership vexed or does its possession of much grant the victor of such

Is it of the behest or are we of its test

Does the strength of our might own a voice in its plight

If it’s love that subjects, what’s the word that protects