Wherefrom
this ache, this coupled love, to perish this vine?
Wherefrom
this life, this sheltered sorrow, to season such
love?—for
such is diamonds and topaz rubies, crawling on
rhinestones.
I love you come shadows, a subtle vex, to test
pineapple
waters; and essence so sweet, an elfin nose, a
twist
come deserts. So wherefrom this churn, this turn of time,
to
prune scars?—for wildfire—is particles, wafting through
forests;
and come this bliss, a bass through souls, born
through
unborn gestures. I’m addled to love, a breath so
delicate,
to forage through emotions. I feel for dells of charm,
a
tear to pause, a gait to fawn; and over I fall, the crest of joys,
to
discern a twinkling star; but an antre weaves, the deepest
silence,
for mystic attics. We grip for winds, to search for calm,
something
nigh eternal; and die this rose, filled with disdain,
for
all is not perfect; and wherefrom this smile, this glorious
comfort,
the squall of sorrows. We panic to utter love, filled
with
trepidation, and that much relieved; for love is such
destiny,
compelled to love, where all is foreign chaos; and die
this
life, to spear a rib, and walk a pier of figs; for love so grand,
a sensual feast,
where darkness haunts reason.
