FROM THE POETRY ALBUM: BELIEVERS TO THE GOLDEN RETRIEVERS.
III. Love Me A River
“Love is a pretty river. It stretches and stretches and stretches
yet it is never deeper. And I will be swimming with you.
And it is so unknown. Unknown.”
“Love is not a pretty river. It is anything but pretty. But it becomes beautiful despite of
it. That is how deep these waters are. And I will be swimming with you. And you are so unknown.
Unknown.”
“I am anything but unknown to you. You know that.”
“You will be unknown to me. I will be unknown to you. But love will turn us into the people we need to be for each other. That is how deep these waters are. And I will be swimming with you. And I am so unknown. Unknown.”
“Then once you swim in these waters, I’ll help you remember who you are.”
“And when you do, I shall help you remember who you are too.”
“And our love will be known. Known.”
Tall cliff, skies of marigold, you are right there,
Who? My mind is so slow of thought, it feels I do not need
to know. I climb up. I see you, they say you are like
the child of the sun—but all I see is pure gold.
And I labor at dawn again. The trees whine and hiss,
yet I have learned the incontrovertible state of bliss.
And I notice your reverence, all the men draw their cheeks,
smiles, laughter, the art of friendship, it is never least!
Flowers and cows, I track them down, come vertex of your face,
then dies the life of each. With no other choice I am here now,
slow dying of sun, cutting our distance, my words don’t come out.
We only stare, the end of the world and silence between two hearts;
and something is beating in my soul, rampant and stout.
And you are so unknown, so perplexing and elaborate,
all that you do makes my bubble of thoughts inflate,
even in the questionable hour; something in me stirs awake.
Ah! Again I am ruminating at the bottom of a bottomless lake!
Hearts and lungs, do pressure themselves through waltz and touch,
the couples picnic in the forest, with juices and apple punch,
the pinnacle of the soft, heart-pinned world ends just above the corner of my eye,
there you are again—and again—the loop is impossibly contrived!
Atop the slab of that cliff, though I thought you would be down,
for I have seen you of revelling passion, now heaved in a world without sound,
I struggle uphill. I see you there, a lonesome cloud; you have not cried
but I can smell the petrichor of air. You are gazing at ivies, bending towards heaven,
it does not know the trees keep us from getting anywhere.
“Do you like them too?” I clap back at the quiet air,
My flesh is like yours before, daylight summoning its downpouring flare.
“Perhaps I do.” You trace your eyes back to stare.
And maybe it was that moment, or moments after,
but your lavender heart cried out rivers that filled nature’s thirst!
I see you again, and my valiant mind leaps into the great unknown,
And we become like statues carved out of verbal stones,
with descriptions adding themselves with your name on the podium,
you are more than pure gold, truly you are conceived of June!
Tall trees repeat my name, they know it as much you do now;
the young seedlings will be told old stories of two young lovers,
mysticizing our love through succinct and pretty prose,
of how our first gaze turned into a heavy blaze, burning into our souls.
The public eye motions to our song, trail of hearts scrutinize us,
that we live in a desolate earth that is quiet and unbiased!
And I knew how monotonous and mutable their mediocrities were,
but to see how they chastise you, had my fury unfurl!
Yet you say, “Be calm. Do not get carried away.”
But I say, ‘My dear, look how they carry your name.’
Amid the maelstrom you take my hand, and it is firmer,
your coin of fingers slotted into mine, so honest and so eager.
And now I understand the span of these waters,
the mystery, the stakes, all are in one place,
though our love is so beautiful despite of it,
and I know you now until the end of the final minute.
And our love is forever known. Known.
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 6:23 AM UTC
FROM THE POETRY ALBUM: BELIEVERS TO THE GOLDEN RETRIEVERS.
III. Love Me A River
“Love is a pretty river. It stretches and stretches and stretches
yet it is never deeper. And I will be swimming with you.
And it is so unknown. Unknown.”
“Love is not a pretty river. It is anything but pretty. But it becomes beautiful despite of
it. That is how deep these waters are. And I will be swimming with you. And you are so unknown.
Unknown.”
“I am anything but unknown to you. You know that.”
“You will be unknown to me. I will be unknown to you. But love will turn us into the people we need to be for each other. That is how deep these waters are. And I will be swimming with you. And I am so unknown. Unknown.”
“Then once you swim in these waters, I’ll help you remember who you are.”
“And when you do, I shall help you remember who you are too.”
“And our love will be known. Known.”
Tall cliff, skies of marigold, you are right there,
Who? My mind is so slow of thought, it feels I do not need
to know. I climb up. I see you, they say you are like
the child of the sun—but all I see is pure gold.
And I labor at dawn again. The trees whine and hiss,
yet I have learned the incontrovertible state of bliss.
And I notice your reverence, all the men draw their cheeks,
smiles, laughter, the art of friendship, it is never least!
Flowers and cows, I track them down, come vertex of your face,
then dies the life of each. With no other choice I am here now,
slow dying of sun, cutting our distance, my words don’t come out.
We only stare, the end of the world and silence between two hearts;
and something is beating in my soul, rampant and stout.
And you are so unknown, so perplexing and elaborate,
all that you do makes my bubble of thoughts inflate,
even in the questionable hour; something in me stirs awake.
Ah! Again I am ruminating at the bottom of a bottomless lake!
Hearts and lungs, do pressure themselves through waltz and touch,
the couples picnic in the forest, with juices and apple punch,
the pinnacle of the soft, heart-pinned world ends just above the corner of my eye,
there you are again—and again—the loop is impossibly contrived!
Atop the slab of that cliff, though I thought you would be down,
for I have seen you of revelling passion, now heaved in a world without sound,
I struggle uphill. I see you there, a lonesome cloud; you have not cried
but I can smell the petrichor of air. You are gazing at ivies, bending towards heaven,
it does not know the trees keep us from getting anywhere.
“Do you like them too?” I clap back at the quiet air,
My flesh is like yours before, daylight summoning its downpouring flare.
“Perhaps I do.” You trace your eyes back to stare.
And maybe it was that moment, or moments after,
but your lavender heart cried out rivers that filled nature’s thirst!
I see you again, and my valiant mind leaps into the great unknown,
And we become like statues carved out of verbal stones,
with descriptions adding themselves with your name on the podium,
you are more than pure gold, truly you are conceived of June!
Tall trees repeat my name, they know it as much you do now;
the young seedlings will be told old stories of two young lovers,
mysticizing our love through succinct and pretty prose,
of how our first gaze turned into a heavy blaze, burning into our souls.
The public eye motions to our song, trail of hearts scrutinize us,
that we live in a desolate earth that is quiet and unbiased!
And I knew how monotonous and mutable their mediocrities were,
but to see how they chastise you, had my fury unfurl!
Yet you say, “Be calm. Do not get carried away.”
But I say, ‘My dear, look how they carry your name.’
Amid the maelstrom you take my hand, and it is firmer,
your coin of fingers slotted into mine, so honest and so eager.
And now I understand the span of these waters,
the mystery, the stakes, all are in one place,
though our love is so beautiful despite of it,
and I know you now until the end of the final minute.
And our love is forever known. Known.
SECOND SINGLE OF THE POETRY ALBUM: BELIEVERS TO THE GOLDEN RETRIEVERS
