The Glories of Love

No easy task capturing the glories of Love with a pen,
But that is what I set out to do,
Even knowing I would fail miserably,

Love to me is the slow burning fuse we all have secreted somewhere on or in us,
It rewrites ones life causing all that is good, though it can cause pain,
Once lit when its fuse reaches its end someone falls under its spell,
Its smell of burning disappears and the senses now free run riot,
The fuse lighter is the heart conqueror capturing his or her victim unknowingly,
The victim falls, plummets, sinks or jumps,
His or her heart now webbed, netted, snared and grasped,
Held in the hand of the its netter, snarer, webber and grasper,
I wanted to write about Loves glories,
But I fell and was captured and its glories now surround me.