Perhaps it is simply an illusion
A myth taken from the pages of time
To make us covet, to make us feel
Instill a sense of direction.
When we are all just puppets,
Held by its strings on destiny
A nameless formless intoxication of the mind
Led by the skips and tugs of the heart.
Yet when two destinies collide
Tales are written and celebrated
Inked by the pull and push of the forces
Whimsical and barely out of reach
Connects us to people and memories
Unties the knots of emotions
Releases the pulse of your inertia
Rushes the blood to the core of your soul
A kinetic energy that sparks between them
Beyond science and engineering
Lighted by the divine interstellar explosion
Otherwise simply referred to as love.