Hunger is insatiable
touching, breathing in smell
is not enough,
neither is complete surrender.
I want to feel something more
more than the skin heating,
more than the hearts beating,
more than the souls meeting.
Wanting more is but nothing
more than the alchemy of desire.
A force; magical, mystical and mythical
turning,
absence into bitter presence
and presence into realism.
But isn't love surreal?
a thought illusioned by desire?
Desire could be
sleeping in nature's lap,
or indulging in worldly wraps
different to different body and mind
but could love be
different to different hearts it binds?
If it was
only respect,
they wouldn't fight like cats and dogs
only sharing,
they would fear the inevitable loss
only trust,
forgiveness wouldn't be required
only happiness,
sacrifice would be a waste
only sacrifice,
gratification of expectations wouldn't be so chaste.
All the geniuses ever born
Shakespeare, Eliot or Whitman
Mozart or Rehman
Da Vinci, Picasso or Vaughn
Buddha, Jesus or Ram
stroked down the sum and substance
of universe, nature, life and human
in golden
words, music, art or their Karma.
If alchemy of love was to be,
respect, sharing, trust, happiness or sacrifice
in perfect ratios combined,
All the creations of geniuses
and the genesis of al the creations to come
would be more than enough
to have it perfectly described.
And yet it is not so!
For could be there
a deal more unfair
than to barter being in love
with just its perfect alchemy?
A question I want to pose
to the geniuses and all those
who found it easier
to unravel the mysteries of universe and nature
than to uncover
the alchemy of love.
Or is it like they say,
human is oblivious to the most obvious of all?
touching, breathing in smell
is not enough,
neither is complete surrender.
I want to feel something more
more than the skin heating,
more than the hearts beating,
more than the souls meeting.
Wanting more is but nothing
more than the alchemy of desire.
A force; magical, mystical and mythical
turning,
absence into bitter presence
and presence into realism.
But isn't love surreal?
a thought illusioned by desire?
Desire could be
sleeping in nature's lap,
or indulging in worldly wraps
different to different body and mind
but could love be
different to different hearts it binds?
If it was
only respect,
they wouldn't fight like cats and dogs
only sharing,
they would fear the inevitable loss
only trust,
forgiveness wouldn't be required
only happiness,
sacrifice would be a waste
only sacrifice,
gratification of expectations wouldn't be so chaste.
All the geniuses ever born
Shakespeare, Eliot or Whitman
Mozart or Rehman
Da Vinci, Picasso or Vaughn
Buddha, Jesus or Ram
stroked down the sum and substance
of universe, nature, life and human
in golden
words, music, art or their Karma.
If alchemy of love was to be,
respect, sharing, trust, happiness or sacrifice
in perfect ratios combined,
All the creations of geniuses
and the genesis of al the creations to come
would be more than enough
to have it perfectly described.
And yet it is not so!
For could be there
a deal more unfair
than to barter being in love
with just its perfect alchemy?
A question I want to pose
to the geniuses and all those
who found it easier
to unravel the mysteries of universe and nature
than to uncover
the alchemy of love.
Or is it like they say,
human is oblivious to the most obvious of all?
