she’s in love
she’s in love
with a gifted free spirit
and maybe he loves her too
ah sublime anchorage
now she could channel her restless
creative energies into something
that holds and then propels
a definitive being
that arises from the hotbed of chaos
and a dialectic collage of confusion
a miasma of emotions
untamed untouched
falling into place
like dewdrops on sun seeking eyes
balming and elevating
and not become an easy prey
to soul numbing depression
love is serious love is light
sparring dispassion
spawning a riot
of a thousand springs
from a bed of violet orchids
over time the touch of love
will work its miracle on her
she will be fulfilled
and her insecure resistance to name
will melt away in the harsh glare
of paparazzi lights
he feels light and lonely tonight
tomorrow morning the sunrays
will pass through the prism
of his existence
and show him the mirror
then while shaving he would look
at himself and say…
you must have been dunce
the ebullience of the tide
its eternal rise and ebb
are but a part of the sea
contained in the human breast
…and the sky can’t be enveloped
(3-4 January 2004)
