Ode to Love’s Eternal Flame

O Love, thou sovereign flame that dost abide

Within the breast where mortal hearts reside,

Thou art the star that guilds the velvet night,

The beacon bright that steers the soul aright.

From heaven’s vault to earth’s low-trodden clay,

Thy sacred fire doth hold its gentle sway,

And bids the spirit, bound in fleshly frame,

To soar aloft and hymn thy holy name.

What is this love, that with such might doth move

The stoic heart to dream, to sing, to rove?

It is the breath of God, the spark divine,

That weaves two souls in concord’s mystic line.

No earthly power can quell thy radiant blaze,

Nor time’s cold hand eclipse thy golden days;

For love, once kindled, burns with ceaseless glow,

Through storm and strife, through weal and bitter woe.

In ancient days, when muses walked the earth,

And poets sang of beauty’s boundless worth,

Thy name was carved on every verdant hill,

In every brook that danced with silver trill.

The shepherd piped thy praise beneath the tree,

The maiden sighed thy name by twilight’s sea,

And e’en the gods, in halls of marble vast,

Did bow to thee, whose reign shall ever last.

O Love, thou art the rose that blooms unseen,

In desert wild or meadow’s tender green;

Thy petals soft unfold in hearts sincere,

And fill the air with fragrance ever dear.

Yet, like the rose, thy thorns do prick the hand

That seeks to pluck thee from thy sacred stand;

For love, though sweet, doth bear a poignant sting,

When mortal frailty mars its offering.

Hath not the lover, in his ardent quest,

Felt joy and sorrow mingle in his breast?

The glance that sets his soul in rapturous flight,

The whispered vow that gilds the starlit night,

Are tempered oft by doubt’s unyielding chain,

Or jealousy’s sharp dart, or parting’s pain.

Yet still he loves, for love’s true votary

Doth find in suffering sweet eternity.

O gentle Love, thou art the poet’s muse,

The fire that bids his quill its dreams infuse;

Without thy breath, no song could e’er take wing,

No lute could sound, no heart could ever sing.

Thou art the chord that binds the spheres above,

The harmony that knits the world in love;

From lowly worm to seraph’s radiant throne,

Thy law prevails, and thou dost reign alone.

Consider now the lover’s tender plight,

Who woos his fair beneath the moon’s soft light:

His heart, a vassal to her sovereign grace,

Doth find its heaven in her gentle face.

Her eyes, two stars that gleam in twilight’s hush,

Her voice, a melody that bids him rush

To pledge his soul, his life, his all to her,

And count it joy, though fate should bid him err.

Yet love is more than passion’s fleeting flame,

More than the heart’s wild cry or whispered name;

It is the vow that holds through storm and strife,

The hand that clasps through all the cares of life.

When youth’s bright bloom hath faded into dust,

And time hath dimmed the eyes that once did trust,

Love lingers still, a flame that never wanes,

A bond unbroken by life’s myriad pains.

O Love, thou art the mother’s tender care,

The father’s pride, the friend’s unyielding prayer;

Thou art the tie that binds the kin in one,

The light that shines when all else is undone.

In every heart, thy sacred altar stands,

And every soul is clasped in thy soft hands;

For none can live, though rich or mean their state,

Without thy grace to guide their mortal fate.

Hath not the saint, in cloister’s hallowed shade,

His heart to thee in fervent offering laid?

His love for God, a flame that burns so bright,

It casts all earthly shadows into flight.

And e’en the sinner, lost in wayward sin,

Doth feel thy call to draw him back within;

For love divine, with mercy’s gentle art,

Doth seek to heal the broken, contrite heart.

O Love, thou art the spring that feeds the stream,

The truth that wakes the soul from idle dream;

Thou art the wind that fills the sailor’s sail,

The hope that bids the weary heart prevail.

In every clime, in every age, thy name

Hath kindled hearts to seek a higher aim;

From Troy’s sad fall to Camelot’s bright reign,

Thy story lives, and shall forever reign.

What tongue can tell the fullness of thy might,

Or pen describe the splendor of thy light?

The bard may sing, the painter’s hand may trace,

Yet none can capture all thy boundless grace.

For love is vast as ocean’s ceaseless tide,

Its depths unplumbed, its shores forever wide;

And yet, in every heart, its spark is found,

A treasure small, yet infinitely profound.

O let me sing of love’s unyielding power,

That blooms anew in every passing hour;

Of lovers true, who, hand in hand, do roam

Through life’s brief day to find their eternal home.

Of mothers kind, whose hearts for children bleed,

Of friends who stand in every hour of need;

Of every soul that dares to love and live,

And finds in giving all it hath to give.

Yet, Love, thou art not bound by mortal clay,

Nor fades thy light with life’s declining day;

When flesh doth fail, and breath doth flee the frame,

Thy spirit soars beyond the stars’ bright flame.

In heaven’s courts, where angels hymn thy praise,

Thy radiance shines through everlasting days;

And there, in glory’s uncreated light,

Love reigns supreme, unmarred by mortal night.

O let my soul, with humble fervor, sing

Of thee, sweet Love, my heart’s eternal spring;

And let my life, though frail and fleeting be,

Reflect thy truth in all I do and see.

For while I breathe, my heart shall ever strive

To keep thy flame within my soul alive;

And when I pass to realms of endless day,

May love’s bright star still guide my wandering way.

Thus ends my song, yet love shall never cease,

Its tide shall flow through ages without peace;

For love is God, and God is love divine,

And in His heart, all hearts shall ever shine.

O Love, thou mystery, thou joy, thou pain,

Thy kingdom come, thy will on earth remain;

Till every soul, from shore to shining shore,

Shall sing thy praise, and love forevermore.

Word Count: Approximately 1,000 words.

This poem employs an elevated, archaic style with words like “thou,” “doth,” “hath,” and “e’er,” reminiscent of Elizabethan or metaphysical poetry. It uses a loose iambic pentameter to maintain a rhythmic flow, with vivid imagery and metaphors (e.g., love as a flame, rose, or star) to evoke the timeless and multifaceted nature of love. The structure moves from celestial origins to earthly manifestations, touching on romantic, familial, and divine love, before culminating in a vision of love’s eternal triumph.

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