This is not Love [sonnet]

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There is something more than love which makes mere love seem plain. Here is a sonnet from my heart which will these things explain…

This is not love; it is some other thing
More wonderful and more than twice as wide.
Compared to this, love is the underling
And any shrill complaints unjustified.

This is not love – this strange embrace we found
This otherworldly magnet-making sword;
This other thing which makes another sound
Can take us into realms not yet explored.

I hunted for a name for many hours
With which to nail those colours to the mast;
But naming things destroys their secret power
Demolishing clandestine caves so vast

How little do we keep the mystery
When, settling just for love, we think we’re free.

© 2010, Alan Morrison

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