To the Unversed Cynic

Oh, bitter soul who looks askance at love,
eschewing heartfelt passion others feel,
you seem to deem love something you’re above;
but, you’ve just yet to harbor love that’s real.

Your penance shall be paid, and paid in spades,
when one day you may come to understand
such power, which no man might e’er evade,
as rests within love’s unspoken command.

Then you, who would not bow to spare your soul,
shall bow because you have no other choice;
for love, once felt, shall wrest away control
and, at its whim, you’ll weep or you’ll rejoice.