Love always exceeds its objects <br />which, however great or beautiful, <br />are subject to time, decay, and death: <br />after their brief season in the sun, <br />they lose their fresh bloom, so magical, <br />and harden slowly or rot in their youth. <br />But love remains eternally youthful, <br />whether embodied as a silly, naked boy <br />wilfully shooting his invisible darts <br />at unsuspecting victims, or entirely bodiless, <br />too subtle to behold, but still quivering <br />in every heart's secret places. Love is not <br />subject to us, but we are subject to it: <br />it changes its objects like soiled garments <br />or the deathless soul it's transient bodies. <br /> <br />[From Partial Disclosure]<br /><br />Makarand Paranjape<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-success/
