Some say love it is a river, that drowns the tender reed, some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed, some say love it is a hunger, an endless aching need, I say love it is a flower and you it’s only seed. It’s the Heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance, it’s the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance, it’s the one that won’t be taken that can not seem to give, and the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live. When the night has been to lonely and the road has been to long, when you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong, just remember, in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose.
