What is love? Is it but a dark dream, a nightmare to those who have never felt its approach?
A creature born of stealth, of lust, eager for a stray person to find it, to fall willing into its claws? Does it only exist to cause strife, longing and confusion among people who once thought they had a choice about this unique emotion?
Does some being out there, perhaps feel that nothing could live with out it? That it is needed day in and day out, to feed the life placed in its shell by some magnificent twist of fate?

Or does it realize how great a burden it can be, and loathes itself for being created. Does it realize the pain it may wrought through a person's soul? Does it realize that, if we did not feel it, we would, perhaps, be better off? No, it cannot. For Love is not just a poison to torture the soul. Love can, and wants, to lift us,
to wet our parched tongues. It wishes to lift us up on invisible wings, not to fall back down to the cold, unloving ground, but up into another's arms. It wishes to comfort those who feel it, and make alive those who have never felt it's light touch on their shoulder.

THAT is what Love wants.