i have often wondered more or less..
why life can't simply see..
it is nothing but a spare thought..
erased when it has to be..
i have often wondered now and then..
how important love is to me?
and realized a li'lle more than,
maybe dew for a dying tree..
now i wonder of things more real..
like hatred, malice.. pain..
and sometimes also of curses gallore,
taming such "love" insane..
i wonder about superstitions,
about satin tied in knots..
around the neck of he who preached love..
till he hangs loathed and rots..
what more do i think of when love gulps down..
my monument of expectant vows?
from the man i dream of, on the galloping stallion..
to whom my reluctance bows..
to whom i pledge my dying day..
a caravan of warmth astride..
to whom i pledge my royal guard
the purple sea and night, his bride..
but i have vowed again..all over again..
to wait till my last sigh..
mists in the fragrance of my man again..
and awaken me lest i die..
though i'd rather die of patience.. not impatience..
between the vision and the blink..
if i ever had to choose love like he chose,
his heart and head in sync...