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Love’s course is hidden in the dust,

Rising and falling with the wind’s gust.

Into sorrows net the end may reap,

From unfathomed depths of tortures deep.

To unscaled heights, where forbodings loom,

Predestined paths to beckoned doom.

Or flower into happiness for all to see,

Crystal clear in its tranquility.

Unfolded memories, pleasant in delight,

Ecstasy elated forces that know no height.

Which it will be is all in the making,

The sharing, the giving, the caring and the taking.

With truth and trust we must start the relation,

To end in the glory of raptures sweet sensation.