This Thing

Is something like this ever planned?
From God, given to His creature, man?
More precious than gold, than jewels,
than land, upon its precipice,
its very brink I stand.

Is something like this ever planned
for two souls, ceremoniously woven hand in
hand?
Can a description from the stars, or a
singer humming a few bars, explain this
thing that can’t be band?

This thing is mysterious, never-ending.
Its lifeforce is flowing, ever-giving.
Its grasp is vast, all-encompassing.
Its feel is serious, sacrificial.

This thing is love.