True Love
More precious than any fortune a man can amass,
Transcending colour, creed and social class;
More than mere words, though they much joy can impart,
But also evidenced in actions born deep in the heart.
With patience, kindness and hope love is characterised,
Never boastful or conceited, with envy also despised;
And for personal gain it does not ruthlessly thirst,
But, with selfless abandon, puts the other person first.
Love heeds not unfounded rumours or wild speculation,
Preferring to believe the best in every situation;
And a record of wrongs it does not carve in stone,
But forgives and forgets, when remorse in sincerity is shown.
Love has triumphed in regimes of heartless tyranny,
And weathered the fiercest storms of adversity;
Unable to be contained by even the strongest prison bar,
And breaching any distance, no matter how far.
Many waters cannot quench the intensity of its fire,
Nor can the floods drown it, though the waters rage higher -
It is resilient and unfailing; powerful and strong;
Consistent and unchanging, as days into months and years roll along.
Pale imitations and counterfeits of true love do abound,
But when, in all its glorious fulness, this chief virtue is found,
It adds joy, purpose and vigour to well nigh everything,
Giving a song to the silent, and making the pauper a king.
And if it today was more widespread throughout the entire human race
This world would be a much different and far better place,
For if we endeavoured to spread it in all we say and do,
Eden's once perfect happiness we could in some measure renew.
© Ian Caughey