It comes when knocking at the door and then unfreezing the inside of you.
It has the most beautiful appearence, and the most unpredicable heart.
It heal the wound you fatally get.
Underneath its control, the reason leaves you and the faith betrais you.
It turns you into a silly lily.
It makes you become an incurable invalid.
As long as you accept the sweetness it tendly gives,
You may taste the bitterness it relentlessly lefts.
Until now, no one can really conquer it, like everyone is willing to be its prisoner.
We call it, Love.
Love, the great Lord.
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