How vain is a love that reason requires,
For reasons don’t live very long:
They thrive in a storm of capricious desires
And die when the wind isn’t strong.
And a love for no reason blows like a leaf
That floats on the whim of a breeze,
Wherever it blows, extinguishes grief
That those in its path it may please.
But love that is true stands firm as a tree
That sprouts from surrendering seed,
Its reason the One, eternal, and free
Of all that creation may need.
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