what is love

Love, it's a tender embrace,
A sharp blade as well on the heart's face,
Gently it passes, leaving a mark,
An indelible imprint, a sign of its grace.
Love, it's a clear and sunny sky,
Suddenly clouded, overtaken, as if on high,
Moods change like the weather, in an instant's sway,
From joy to sorrow, a fleeting moment away.

Love, it's the freedom that runs wild and free,
Suddenly lost, aimless, unsure of what to be,
In the quest for answers, direction is lost,
In confusion, the answer is sought.
Perhaps it's a heart that's tired and worn,
Silently yearning for release, to be reborn,
In letting go, seeking peace,
In rest, preparing for the next leap.

Love, it's the disguise after being hurt,
A self-protective instinct, a defensive skirt,
A profound understanding after the storm,
A redefinition of emotion, a new form.
Women, like flowers, after frost and freeze,
Learn to be strong in pain, to rise and seize,
To bloom again, with renewed ease.

Love, it's like a tattoo, a metaphor just so,
Vivid and bright when deep, a work of art in show,
When faded, it's the love's most beautiful memory,
A complex emotion, a blend of reality.
It can give happiness, a joy to pursue,
And yet, it can bring pain, a wound that's true.

Love, it's an eternal topic, a theme that stands,
In the poet's writings, a chapter that expands,
Different for everyone, a personal brand,
An irreplaceable part of life's grand plan.

Who can tell me, what is love?
Is it a sweet start, or a painful love?
Warm sunlight, or the prelude to a tempest above?
Perhaps love has no answers, no clear proof,
It's just a feeling, a vital part of life's truth.