Of Love

Kings and Queens once spoke of it
Stories tell us of its legend
War and peace are but its split
That has no real end

I speak of Love of course
I speak of it and its history
I speak of its course
Yet it is still a mystery

Why yet, hasn't it found me
Why yet, hasn't it found her
Are we really not meant to be
My feelings unable to spur

It is all fiction to me still
With no real cupid in sight
Though the idea brings no ill
This pain, I did not want to recite