What's love? Is it something delicate,
Something that make desperate,
Something that make dream,
Or is it something unnameable?
The feeling of the hearth pounding,
The leg shaking, the stomach aching,
The mind crying, the thoughts screaming.
Is this suffering?
The mind is in a state of bliss,
The thoughts are ethereal,
The body is light and delighted.
Is this happiness?
Well, love is suffering:
It made people die, cry, and kill.
Well, love is happiness:
It made people alive, inspired, and motivated.
It made people people.
For we name love, but love names us.
