Love's Property

This love I carry like a ladybug, prisoner in my cupped hands, of all the small things of the world, in the eyes of man, but great in it's stern demands, and bears within itself an exuberance of power, I close my hand upon it like the pedals of a dying sunflower, for love there is no sense of time or season, and of all the things of earth it has no reasoning, I open my hand inside my palm look, it holds within itself life, death, and birth that love took, used with cruel intentions, ther is no harm it can't do, look long hard and carefully this is for you,