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Grasping at Love
Tremble with doubt, but grasp at love and make it your slave.
Born of one desire, our souls entwine,
eyes of truth they blossom and grow.
Experience, life’s mentors, give polish and shine,
yet crippled with doubt, love’s seeds we fail to sew.
Shackled by fear, young hearts stumble at night,
too shy in effort, too abundant with intent.
The heart quivers, the mind freezes in dark fright
and love fails to realize hope is from heaven sent.
But to grasp the spirit and wrestle it to the ground
would give hope to open romance’s door.
Once tasted, this pleasure the heart would resound
and replace fear with a love, blazing to the core.
Lunge for it, grasp love’s chance and make it your slave
For love is not the home of the meek, but the realm of the brave.