To The Lover (Original)

How many lines have been written of you, the faceless Lover
that timelessly performs perfectly in the mind?

What soft sonnets sing in mellow flats and stinging sharps
to capture the spectrum of sound and feeling that is you, nameless love?

Countless pages have colored you unobtainable, even forbidden;
a love that would char the soul and leave us hollow in its passionate fury.

You are the idea that sparks a revolution.

What lands and people have been conquered to please you, the oblivious Lover
who casts a cloak about the hunched shoulders of the world?

Many are the souls that have revolted from within, chasing the tail of the timeless Lover,
round the table, clock and world again and again, left holding travel and a wisp.

And of these serene statues shaped in poignant repose, face hidden by marble veil,
how many of these and more were made to honor that universal lover?

I should have been shaped in stone, reaching for you.

How much life and death do we give to the Lover,
who holds much more than any God could?

The Lover who holds in their fist our hearts,
weaving them into the fabric of destiny.

The Lover, whose flock outnumbers the sedentary stars
and the grains of sand off which they reflect.

In your mystery you are the secret hand that spins the world.

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@prufarchy