Yura, Yuraell
Do you really realize
Can you understand the great expanse
Of that
treasure
You so freely lance around with words
Furthermore
You adore adoration
But do you place it on a pedestal?

I think this amor you speak more of
Than any other or more for any line of time
Than any other subject addressed by rhyme
Is never a child, never a kiss, nor this gentle embrace
Never held hands, nor lovelust, or other trusts
Dusty tomes, alone, fold open to reveal
Ink thinking aloud proud on the page raving the days
Of loves lost, found, tossed around loudly
Whether held or thrown, all held well in the souls' hold
In all eyes love is bold, even those with cold hearts
Hearken to the word, even those who hold feigned disdain

Never is love the tokens of its presence
The reflections of affection bear
Nothing to the ear of its cause but merely its causes
Love is a woven lattice of practiced stones
Honed and ground to fit their homes and years
Of twain times at the flagstones go
Just to fit the bits, putting the pieces is ceaselessly
Tiring, flagging as one hand grinds the other lifts
The limestone higher to build the pyre
'Gainst wit, stability is denoted by altitude
The loftier the loft then the greater the base
And the steadier the great monument's embrace

So, you simply see, love is fashion in happiness
Fashioned in entropy
So place this affection above others
Wear it like a mantle
For it does not wield light of happiness to come
As much as it bears merit of tradgedy overcome

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Ero, in the year 332 AF.