painting by Elena Kotliarker.
“I love you simply, without problems or pride; so
intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
Love is magma muscle,
the vertex of the flesh husk
we choose to inhabit.
Love is the engineer
that directs the plethora of emotions,
the executive producer
for the daily broadcast
we consider as our life.
Love can, and perhaps must,
overpower the darker impulses,
can smooth them out,
even eradicate them.
If love were a hormone,
it would spring from the heart,
treating it like a railroad round house,
providing for itself several routes of egress.
Love is not lust, not greed or avarice
or selfishness--no, it is the antithesis
of these; selflessness,
Love can be too often misunderstood,
misinterpreted, misaligned and misused
by a sweet tooth,
Life can be reduced to mathematics.
Love can combine math and heart emissions,
and provide startling solutions
to problems, diplomacy, negotiations
Love can be the departure & the destination
the before and the after,
the darkness and the light,
the reason d’etre,
or Cupid’s curse.
out of love
and the lack of it.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub