If only love were as perfect as love itself,
Blue as the sky in fair weather,
Clear as one can hope it to be;

Where no friendships are broken over time,
No severed-ties born of past pains,
And, never again should their be feelings not so fine;

Where no child is raised to be one who is parentless,
Exposed to the ruthless world of adapting intentions,
Fueled with rage, equipped with fear, or even worse, both;

Where no families are torn apart ,
Because of judgment and wars within them,
Product of instability or insecurity;

Where no community kills, though they fight for their own,
Stomps, though they must step up for themselves,
And puts down, though they must rise;

Where the world is more caring, all the more, cherishing,
Kind, compassionate, and, of course, forgiving.
And not tolerating a world of over-competition;

Where no lovers get heartbroken when they least expect,
Or pushed to the point they can no longer breathe,
Or be exhausted from loving each other;

Where one can outstretch one's arms and hug oneself
In spite of what the world says,
Because the world should be doing that as well;

If only love were as perfect as love itself,
Then it'd be much easier to say "I love you"
Without having to first utter in the mind, "I cannot say".