Love by Edwin Morgan Love rules. Love laughs. Love marches. Love is the wolf that guards the gate. Love is the food of music, art, poetry. It fills us and fuels us and fires us to create. Love is terror. Love is sweat. Love is bashed pillow, crumpled sheet, unenviable fate. Love is the honour that kills and saves and nothing will ever let that high ambiguity abate. Love is the crushed ice that tingles and shivers and clinks fidgin-fain for the sugar-drenched absinthe to fall on it and alter its state. With love you send a probe So far from the globe No one can name the shoals the voids the belts the zones the drags the flares it signals all to leave all and to navigate.