Love is the mind’s doing – and not the eyes' -
and so they say,
the mind tricks, illuminating a pony
to a celestial creature
Love is the essence of human life
and so we are told –
but isn’t it a malign satisfaction to possess, conquering
the hollow image of reality?
Love is tasting caramel in a bowl of gourds – doesn’t make sense
Love is humming a lullaby in faltering staccato – you can hardly sleep
Love is seeing the fiery moonlight in eclipse – phenomenal
Love is,
Depending what you choose to remember
For love is,
Love
Saskia Harjono
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-is-143/
