Fruitful

Is your pursuit of love

Misunderstood and blundered?

That others may question

Where your allegiances lie?

Wrapped within their bedsheets

Wandering only to ask yourself why?

I already saw through it...

You were looking to lose yourself.

And look, I see you - just like myself.

You fall into arms like our hearts fall from sleeves.

Then you bandage yourself up

When it’s not what it seems.

See, that sorta love is seasonal

And only feasible if it’s not true.

Falling into the wrong hands

So quickly sticky, infused like glue.

But I know that’s not what

you wanted to do

You just wanted something true.

Something softer, and unchained

Not tarnished by need or gain.

The pursuit of love -

We once pursued it in vain.

Perused and abused it

Like it was only a game.

Only wanting love,

But not the other person.

A vessel for our passion

But a seedless diversion.

These days we long for something fruitful.

A sweetness we can truly desire.

To love openly and honestly,

To confide then transpire.

Hippy

I’m in love with colour,

And every sense we could succumb to;

Yet, dumbfounded I undulge

Until I feel it no more.

Breathe out breathe in...

Perhaps let‘s begin

To melt mediocrity in our phyche

Just by opening our eyes.

Like we’ve not seen life before,

The only thing we can truly adore,

Is the beauty of each waking moment.

...Yet suddenly it’s gone...

I feel no need to cling on.

As the next is just the same ~

But intrinsically so different.

Impermanence is wondering

When we won’t see it as infringement

Or a copy, or an attempt,

To replay it over and over again.

Why do such a thing

When every moment is a godsend?

My friend, we’re a majestic network

Of stars, linking all souls like ours.

Near and far, we work from the same web

One by one we awake, and transcend the live and the dead...

Yet we meet such a concept with underlying dread -

But listen beyond that dread -

And you’ll feel bountiful contentment instead.

Our body is a vessel for a profound story,

A connective tissue, an experience of sensory glory.

Do we take it for granted or explore it with childlike wonder?

Do we take our dreams and bound them or cast them asunder?

We battle with the storms of the intellectual mind,

But step further from it, and there’s the universe you’ll find.

Helpless reality

As our union collided

Perhaps there’s too much we confided

Do we feel an obligatory binding

Based on very little finding?

Now a romantic notion misguided,

Are you just a lesson that I fantasise too much?

Or perhaps there’s no lesson at all -

Maybe I’m just out of touch.