A Passing Question

It swims in the ocean with mermaids too lovely to behold;
It soars the open sky with fairies glittering as gold.
It runs the open pastures with unicorns white as snow;
It knows of creatures yet unknown, their stories not yet told.

So elusive this creation, one wonders if it's real;
So uncertain, so invisible, so difficult to know its feel.
So sought after, so demanded, though boundless are its limits;
So mythical this thing called love, this miracle that all ills heal.