The strangest of things
It is compared to those which are not
When in itself is incomparable
In its stillness
It brings out its raging fury
In its silence
It makes itself known
In its truthfulness
It begets lies and self-projection
In its sanity
It creates euphoric feelings of Utopia
In seclusion
It hides what is being revealed
In its existence
It ceases to become what it is by becoming more
In its essence
It is but a mutual feeling between two worlds
In its being
It is love and only love itself
How foolish for mortals to overthink complexities
For something so simple as the feeling of being in love
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