last moon

Saturday, June 25, 2011

The Mystery of My Love



I
I have never loved,
   since never  loved me
the women I loved
and I didn't love
those who tried to love me!

II
I  first pursued
Impossible loves,
and when the overwhelming body
 forced me, I loved,
but it was not love;
surely  it was sweet discovery of pleasure,
flesh into flesh, fire with fire
fury subsided into the abyss of life;
but it was not love.

III
Neither  was love
the spasm which I waited
to see the air colored  
by your forms,
when was  enough for me
to feel her presence
ethereal and impalpable, although present,
yet not mine
and it was not love.

IV
So, I'm  still in search of you, sublime, decanted love.
What are you?
You that fleetingly
  were sent to men by God?
Are you  for all of us or just for a few?
Do you really exist?
You  catcher of   hearts and reason?
Are you real or unreal?
Lier or truth?

V
Still I'm seeking after you,
poignant love
unveiled eyes,
flying mate,
slave and mistress,
mother and lover,
mystery of life!

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