We
come to life to nibble fruits captured in words where
verbs
channel into chi. I like for love a feeling of
vibrations
to giggle and even wiggle through discomfort.
It’s
more unlikely to see a nervous confidence, where
such
a paradox tickles animosity; for love is for boldness,
where
mature seduction ventures for romance; but I
season
through familiarity where coloring school is for
want.
We speak of love as grand, an entity wrapped in
crystals,
to unleash a world of magnetism; when in want,
we
scurry through tunnels in hunt for wolves, where
such
are scorned for favor; for such flee for a forest of
fruits.
If not a rule, than more for chaos, stranded at a
pier
of wantonness. Is it true, where others are in flight
to
ravish a continent? I ask, for often we love—to disown
love—to
rapture in a fleet of arms. We journey to Cancun,
to
fly to Rome, lost in moments of love. Does a heart
settle
as more than convenience to rupture through eyes a
love
channeled in chi? Such is found wrapped in life
where
children raise puppies lost in reveries while parents
strengthen
to sculpt love’s palace.
