Love, most blinding of all feelings,
oft’ conceals such shady dealings
as when its arrow hits but one -
reveals to him the radiant sun;
and yet the other does not feel,
not being struck by Cupid’s Seal.
And so the smitten strives in vain
his sweet love’s favor to obtain,
and finds in this complete futility
a strange but sweet sort of tranquility;
though true love he cannot find,
to his own heart he soon grows blind.
Alas, at some point he remembers
that love’s fire has cooled to embers -
that the feeling which once burned
within his heart has simply turned
into a dream that he himself dares not fulfill;
Love’s song has ceased its once-sweet trill.
So he reverts to his deep gloom,
and revels in that passion’s bloom.
Perhaps, he thinks, he’ll try again,
and hopes this time he can sustain
that magic which he lost before -
a love which could not be ignored.
But then his doubt begins to gnaw -
he is reluctant to withdraw
from what he thought was stable ground
and now he fears that he might drown -
he cannot know what might result
when he rejoins Love’s sacred cult.
And so the cycle soon resumes;
he breathes again Love’s heady fumes,
but only to be turned away
as apathy-ward he re-strays.
To this cruel wheel he bends each breath
until he’s mastered by Love’s only master, Death.