Love is as natural as Death itself

Love is as natural as Death itself,
It's always lurking somewhere near.
For our Love, we are ready to meet our death,
Day and night: we wait for it year after year.
It comes to us in Spring, breathing life,
With blooming gardens, birds' song in the air.
It dizzy our head and lures us to follow,
To where autumn paints the leaves with care.
All ages are forever subject to Love,
Such is nature's mysterious decree.
This will last for thousands of years to come,
But Death won't miss its chance, you'll see.
It constantly feeds us its poison,
Summoning Satan and demons from Hell,
Replacing Truth with its vile, twisted lies,
And now demons dance at the gay parade's swell.
God created this world with Love,
We all are children of a great Love's embrace.
And though love may have been painfully brief,
Through us, it will echo through time and space.
And somewhere nearby, Death silently walks,
Sowing doubt among us, nurturing strife,
Plotting War for us, and a void in the soul:
The beat of living hearts disturbs its quiet life.
Such is our fate: to love unto death,
We die for Love or from Love's cruel sting.
And again in spring, that oak will bloom,
That stood its ground through winter's freezing.
Its whole life – a fight against Death's breath,
So later it can proclaim Love's Triumph true,
Centuries later, it waves to us with its branch,
Giving us strength to cleanse our souls anew.