Like that one,
Blissful note,
Amid a hypnotic –
Symphony,
So, you’ve been
To me.
Like that first
Bee sting
That you remember,
For a lifetime,
To come…
So, your eyes –
To me,
Have been,
Just the One.
Like an evil,
Yet, melodious
– Tune
That one can’t
Stop humming
Even to his doom,
Or a worm
That digs on
Deep,
So are the words,
To me –
You speak.
But,
Like a mid savanna,
Wild Stampede,
Are those dainty
Feet, and those
Daunting deeds.
And
Like the clouds that
Spell rain
Only to reveal the sun…
Or then sun –
That shines on high,
Only to run behind
The moon, and hide,
Well, as surprising –
As all these, just as such –
Are your turns, and your pleads.
And still, somehow,
Your image, in me
Burns free,
For perhaps,
I never saw,
What was there –
Before me.
And there was
A beauty in that
You see –
The golden age of ignorance,
Via loving maleficence –
There is a humor
To be had, if it all
Wasn’t so sad.
Yet, happy is old age,
For one seems
To become a
Sage, and no longer
On the run after
The One,
You see them all –
As None.