Wednesday, 18 January 2012


Life, I know what it is if she is with me.
What does it if she is with me when we are together?
I know she takes part and I take a bosom meet, afloat,
The place, the time, the event are not a matter of concern,
I know what our bodies are doing with love breakfast,
The art the limbs take part in forming body use tracts,
Values that boil, and taste reaches at the peak of pleasure,
First begins in eyes, then in mouth, and lastly we do fly,
Words of love, promises of love, closeness of love –
Bring heaven and interwoven in body surge to declare:
“I am the earth, I am the love, and I am the gift of love’s love.”

Life, I know what it is if she is not with me.
What does it if she is away from me when we are selfish?
I do not feel any essence of love; the vast ocean is not blue,
I forget to pursue me for self protection, and that is why
I cannot be warring knight, and words moving around
Do not sprinkle love singing, and instead decrease meaning
And  gifts of love, where thoughts and feelings disappear,
It is a phase of love intolerance, living desire steals away energy,
Either in the same time of her leaving me, or within four years,
Which is earlier, and I cannot chose my own time
That was once her time of leaving, thinking of mine,
And now I am moved by high sequence of inactive sway
Of existence, moving into disorder of living symptoms,
Inability to grow my own pattern of thinking and living.
My life is now a spoonful retreat that is easily sipped out.

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