Yet More Intense

Lotus flowers dancing in the pond.
Moonlit bliss amid a kiss of laughter.
The party ended early,
but the lovers lingered on,
studying the starlight in the pond.

Slow and sweet, the early heat
condensed into a mist.
Uncanny, the attraction that
we feel for one another.

Unknown, you stole into the
secret, hidden shadows of my soul.
And that attraction blossomed into
more than just one kiss could realize.

These souls of ours are old and wise,
yet still they need the feel of love that
has a way of bringing even more into
the meaning of our lives. And too,
the thrill of being so set free, that
actions follow from the earnest dreams
of two that seek to be just one.

And what is love without imagination?
Who dares yet see the phantom in approach?
Or feels the thrill of sensual illusion in their
dreams of love that seem to feel so real.
Man or woman - *something other* guards
the many secrets of our souls. Yet still,
we seek to find the time and space
and grace to make it real (just now and then,
as all our strength is spent on something else).

The possible is what we seek to most believe
can be made real. As if the new were ever really
guaranteed at all. But it was always up to you.
Cosmic blue that filters through your being.
When, oh when, will all the strength of soul
begin to blend within the meaning of it all-
set askance from all the bleeding hearts
that speak of nothing much at all...?

What is love...? Yet more intense,
what is it that this love might come to be?
Unrecorded in the tomes of history...

? Michaelette ?

1/9/2003
Copyright© 2002 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .