My Unnamed Feeling

What nameless thing has captured me
And made me powerless to flee?
What is this without a name
That started to play a game?

A whim is not,
Of that I'm sure,
For what I feel
Is not obscure.

My sky is not,

Nor it is a lure,
For what I behold
Is totally mature.

It is you! It is love!
Of that I'm sure,
For what I see
Is completely pure.