So many poems written
So many gifts given
The phases often mingle
Now committed, now single
In and out we fall
Love blinds us all
We roll along a dream
Under life's sinful scheme
Now blissful, now distressed
It revolves in contest
To subdue the others' gain
Triumphs pleasure, now wins pain
A rotation of the sort
That can never abort
The feelings of the brain
For matters so mundane
25th June '08
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