It echos like love in a sinners soul
Wandering through the thickness of pride.
It had decorated itself in tassles and lace,
so as to make it apear more complicated.
Even so, confusion is a small embelishment compared to the intricacy it visits.
Love is simple, really.
Woven from light,
like the sun or the space between the darkness
and its face is hollow and plain.
The simplicity mocks those who dwell soaly inside themselves,
Yearning for the secret concealed within the visitor.
And this love who passes through;
it tries to serve their greedy questions,
For it can no longer blend with them.
It speaks with the voice of purity,
But the truth is not enough.
And the truth will never be enough
when the truth can't be conjured from those who crave it.