Let
us drift, musing upon beauty—to love a soul. Is it
concrete,
to utter love, found in an abstract thought?
But
we see it, musing gestures, a deep aesthetic: love
is
an artisan.
I
love you holds weight, when always
present,
as colorful as parades.
Love
is a locket, bending waves, captured in a diamond.
Such
a fever, given to moments, an orgasm to a last
thought.
We filter through webs, figurative in speech,
tender
in our dispositions. I love you pauses television,
intensifies
dinner, needing for nothing less. Impassion
a
quasi-saga, where love is quixotic, soaring eyes, soul
to
soul. It’s ever dreamy, found in concrete tears, to
qualm
over dishes. I love you soothes a tone, religious
in
scope, terrifying a young queen.
Love
challenges self, deeply esoteric, as sublime as
emotions.
Something is moved, where protection is
needed,
a sea to voyage. I love you conjures up
wildflowers,
even dynamite, peering into motives. But
rivers
flow, raft to raft, calming light to time.
