Loves Remainder Poem by Dawson Walter Smith

Love hath taken me,
Much farther then I had ever thought.
Way past that of fantasy,
To that which could be wrought.
Could melt the ice of a heart,
Frozen from being left in the cold.
Truly from the forgotten start,
But that story isn't usually told.
The fire that can be lit,
Is nothing compared to something fake.
Could match even with more wit,
But few know the give and take.
The old self practically has to die,
To become something of love.
Many would ask how or why,
But its simply not something they're above.
Many would love to complicate,
Something like this for effect.
But it is simplified from detail,
And devastation can come from the wrecked.
Its power is no toy,
No tool to the unworthy.
Like a nuke it can destroy,
But the destination is worth the journey.
I've been the fool to fall,
Into love and lose the control.
Of one's self to it all.
But at least it won't take your soul.
It may kill you,
but what does it matter.
Dying knowing you cared that much
and were that happy.
Well yeah it does,
because like cancer.
It will eventually stop adding up,
Because you lost the love.