True love seeks a silent place,
A peace of unburdened voice,
Where lovers speak face to face
Without the past’s background noise.

Experience digs a pit
Crumbling love’s foundation,
For two lovers must commit
To a brand new creation.

Lessons learned in agony
That true love should leave behind
Are the cruelest irony,
And so hard to leave behind.

Rocking, rhythm, bobbing head.
Quiet wisdom, words unsaid.
Moving, swaying, in a trance.
Feeling, praying, like a dance.

Darkness, hearing, murmured sounds.
Soulful, fearing, fire surrounds.
Comfort, pleading, self laid bare.
Crying, needing, selfless prayer.

Heartfelt, wholesome, voicing praise.
Faithful, welcome, end of days.
Forgive, revive, guilt away.
Strengthen, alive, here I pray.

Intent, inspired, sensing awe.
Arise, aspire, then withdraw.
Recede, to Earth, breathe the air.
Shalom, rebirth, peace from prayer.

A snowflake’s lifespan, once but a droplet,
Now infinitely a unique object.
Oh, lucky snowflake! You never compete
With other snowflakes. You are formed complete.

Oh, to be so born! To become my own
Arriving on Earth, meant to be alone.
You lucky snowflake! You have no power
But grow beautiful, to live an hour.

You are not long here, made of winter chill,
But precious snowflake! Do hold your shape still!
I am so common, never quite like you!
Each of you snowflakes, are a snowflake true!

Of frozen water, from the cloud above,
You became special, one and only love.
To live snowflakes’ lives! What would I have felt?
None would be like me, but too quick to melt.

I have a question of philosophy
That bears directly on humanity.
Are the feelings I feel so soulfully
A result of my physicality?

Are my emotions incorporeal?
If I had no body would I still feel?
Feelings may not be the pure soul ideal.
What I sense does make my emotions real.

And if emotions are ****** bound,
Love and compassion now seem so unsound.
Feelings are stirred by what I see around;
I think my spirit world is earthly bound.

We’re taught ****** drives are so impure.
I find comfort knowing that’s not so sure.
I shall no more resist the world’s allure,
For true love on earth is the only cure.

Isn’t “love” more varied than “snow,”
For which there’s more than fifty words,
In language of the Eskimo?

No two loves are ever the same,
It’s the greatest understatement,
Two loves should not have the same name.

Love’s a unique organism
With its own character and traits,
And not by nominalism.

Love. A word so insufficient.
For each time I say “I love you,”
It feels horribly deficient.

Each facet, a surface so resplendent,
Till ground away with endless polishing
To find innate sparkle magnificent,
O’er timeless glow that we’ve been cherishing.

O the eons spent on its perfection,
Dulled easily without the jeweler’s lens.
What gain had from chiseled vivisection?
To scratch the surface with corrosive cleanse?

What value is in diamond edges smooth,
Where lines mark surfaces with precision?
Is natural shine too luminous to soothe,
So we treat works of time with derision?

Hardened we underestimate its glow,
Its care requires the finest instrument.
The process used to make it shine was slow,
But dulls with the pressure of improvement.

We so misjudge the obvious places,
Searching after our most empty spaces,
Running straight for the prettiest faces,
Fooling ourselves in meaningless chases.

Has anyone found Love where predicted?
Fantasies to which we’re addicted?
Love’s not how the romantics predicted,
Foolish poets who end up conflicted!

Love is not the salve of those in despair,
Crying till morning for what is not there,
Trying to swipe on some profile somewhere,
They buy what’s on sale, but buyer beware.

They love too free, expecting rejection,
Just to love who made them their selection,
Love of convenience with no connection—
Love ends and begins with introspection.

Love is not something you find if you try,
Focusing on just what pleases the eye.
If Love arrives, there’s but one reason why—
You happened to meet the right passer-by.