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All English Sonnets


Love is a strange phenomenon- well researched,
One moment down the dumps, the lovers link,
The moment next on pinnacles are perched,
Like walkers on the ropes, on the brink.

Of falling, kept on moving, swayed and lurched.
Inextricably caught in dragnets,
with non-existent hope, lacunae searched
Or fillings heaped around the magnets

So what is love? By lovers so besmirched,
And also in the greatest temples berthed.
Belittled in their pain, still so much
In happy moments, sacred- fire like hearth.

For worship. Love is, although much researched,
But what is it is – Is still unknown- unearthed.

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