I.
'I believe 'tis, me, the creative one who woke up in the early morn,
as I was waiting on that language child
in the paper skin of a fresh free verse
or even on that new up-to- date love poem to be born
as I then saw how the collection of those overcasted letters
formed some real vital words but, please, do tell me, where did they all actually go,
before I truly saw them evolving into those somehow fateful sentences
that nevertheless turned my existing ups into everything but that what one calls a minor low

II.
So, yes there I was sitting and scribing as I saw myself writing in the present sunlight
about the splendor, that’s the miracle of love,
about how that same and irreplaceable love can lie in the openmindedness of brain and heart,
or even in the sometimes slow reapprochement that cannot make togetherness ever part,
as well as I saw it in all the beautiful things we’re in fact able to confess, before the sudden birth of what we see as a death, that's maybe the end as 'tis even nothing less

III.
I guess it was then, that I had the God dictated thought that 'tis
the enigmatic smile of the mystery
that merrily runs to all practicing romantics and aspiring lovers to be
as I also had to write down how they can even in an electrifying way run to the ownmost core of love
and only love itself, in the clarity of their un-muted footsteps
that I imagined vividly as they were loudly stepping towards the rare five-star romance novel that was resting
on that packed antique book shelf

IV.
Yes, I even had to confess to this yellowed, piece of scrap paper
that 'tis in fact that same miracle of love that does tell us when the battle is over and done
as I saw how it was making way for a welcome halt at rest,
for me to sleep then over in the open arms of the loved one that my deep living love by all means does know the best

V.
Thus, I think maybe every single miracle bears a name deeply hidden
in what the Lord created as being our precious time
as well as sometimes 'tis de facto better to wait a bit than to rush
or to take that too wild jump in the wide distance that resembles the miracle of hope,
that echoes a true love, divine

VI.
And, yes then I wrote how her soft pink lips locked with that mouth of me, in a thousand luscious kisses better
than any existing, poetic exercise
or even better than a perfect rhyme, ya see,
as I do guess that new beginning
was without doubt something I had to call the end
of the poetic line, untill I saw one sow the sweet seeds
of a dozen eternities to maybe always be called the closest and literal love of mine....