I have you today, so I will make you mine. I will study the color in your eyes, and notice every facial line. I will hold you every possible way, and listen to everything you have to say. My plans to rule the world can wait, for making you smile is the only power worth its weight. Your future calls for us to separate, so while I have you, I'll make you mine and cherish every breath you take.

Is freedom born or is it taught?
The baby new, defenseless and poor, awaiting the truth it's breath has brought.
Foundations laid on brick or sand,
A life formed by trust or cut by command.
The fresh fruit of joy
Or the rot of ploy.
Is freedom taken or is it given?
The secrets of love give birth to this haven.

You can travel the world and never leave your own.
Gather the people and seat yourself on the throne.
The heavy pockets and echos of praise,
feeding the beast hiding in the hearts cave.
Insatiable, his appetite grows.
Swallowing would be charity, regurgitating self-obsessed woes.
You can look into the eyes of your neighbor
Know their hearts cry and consider their labor.
Sharing a moment, giving wings to trust
 Whispering to hope, maybe love is enough.
Strength arises with the gift of flight
Friendship undoing the forgotten's plight.

Alas the dust has settled, with no beauty left to see. All the life that was is now a memory. Time laments loss causes of men, fortitude and strength adding to the pain. The future decides the battles true victor, what legend will the children render.

I stand not alone, but apart. Separated by the wealth of my heart. Take me in and give me shelter, pour me love and serve me honor. My peace will enrich you, my joy captivate you, and my simplicity will completely empower you. My treasure is born from a communal chest, easily found by the soul in earnest, and shared with any who show an interest.

A legendary love.
Outlasting man's divide, giving death a shove.
His eyes boldly behold all he has forsaken.
While her stare piercingly proclaims there's only one- her heart is taken.
History takes note of a covenant so rare,
Begging its remains to give up loves heir.
For witnessing such vigor, and partaking in such fumes
Might provoke an ardent quest to unlock the secret of loves bloom.

The scholar tries to play the artist, appropriately appointing his lines, his words are potent and his detail divine. Perfection by standards, a gold mine for the vultures, and one more thing he can say he has mastered. His painting on your wall will not create a wake, and his words on your table will not leave you to think, for what you have acquired is merely a fake.