The imperfections of our generation eased with the sudden reality of what defines love, has carved our generation to question the meaning behind what it means to love and to be loved. This subject for decades has puzzled writers as well as affectionate endeavours to always dance around the topic.

For a while now I've pondered on the idea of love and why some of us find it in unpleasant realities. What fascinates me the most is the conflicting world love seems to drag us all when the night owl whispers to our daring hearts. As a poet I've sat next to nothing over the uncertainties of it all while wishfully thinking on the night of autumn if love still finds us victims to our many desires?

While time and tales have permitted thy heart to perilous through the corridors of a vintage "capetownian" house I've questioned thyself what thyself what many of us are in search of when asked the sudden question, what "tis" love when reality confronts your thought process?

Members of this forum, those that have engaged in various attributes of life, if it's not too much so ask, can I ask such a thought and if your time isn't too precious to your heart can you spare a few minutes to such a need?