What you call love,
Is an insignificant mockery,
of what it really is,
Walking, ignorant and self assured,
each passing moment of your life,
perceiving what you think you know,
about love
No, what you call love
is not love at all,
what you call love,
is nothing.
If I could but try to explain,
to say, that love is;
an indescribable perfection,
the absolute mercy and
infinite affection,
that would shatter mountains into dust,
burst open the guts inside your body,
desiccate every single drop in the ocean,
Melt even the most strongest of metal,
would not equal to an iota,
of what love really is
but what you call love,
no, that is not love,
a grain of knowing what love really is,
would drain the blood from your heart,
as every color of your life becomes painted,
with a madness,
A Madness that no one else can see
that leaves you wandering,
in tears and laughter,
in dreams of not being,
not belonging,
not living,
of nothingness,
and contemplation,
about why and how,
could you be worthy,
of such true love.
Zak Raz
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-you-call-love/
