“The Age Old Question,” a Poem by Anonymous

What is it?

Is it a thought, an emotion?

Do you smell it, taste it, hear it, feel it?

A question so timeless, it almost predates “why”

Because it can’t be determined by the most intelligent minds

It’s a feeling, a curse

Perhaps it’s a hearse that carries us to our grave;

Our hands tied together in a pleading praise,

Asking all of those that came before us.

What. Is. Love.

To love, to be in love, to be loved.

What does it mean?

A word so simple, yet so hard to truly know.

Is it a fiery hellscape, with broken souls, there to drag you down

Or is it a field of flowers you escape to outside a bustling town

Is it taught, is it learnt, is it something you grow into?

It’s a scary idea to anyone involved;

To put your heart on a tightrope to make it to the other side

Of a chasm of secrets that remain untold,

And the only harness received is “it’s your truth to unfold”.

The when, why, and how never given to a soul.

Is it now, is it never, is it too soon or too late?

If you give, do you receive, or is it all up to fate to decide?

What will happen to me? 

Is it an enjoyable feeling?

Is it different for everyone who dips their toes within the dark murky waters

That send goosebumps up your spine and stretch your lips till they’re sore.

An unimaginable sensation that I’ve never felt before but then

How will I know? It’s something different from what I’ve ever experienced.

Will it rip me to shreds? Will it pull me apart? 

Will it all end before I even start to truly understand it?

Will the embers lash at my back if I turn to avoid the flames at my chest?

Will I be ready? Will it find me?

Will it seal my fate? Will it set me free from these chains

that I have locked myself in. Too scared to venture out into the deep

As I’m not quite sure what will happen to me.

These fears do nestle deep, but my valor creeps in too.

I’ll answer all these questions, then give my love to you

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