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lloyd britton Jun 2015
Here is the object, the object of my heart,
With a description, let us start,
A subtle depiction, let the vague depart.
Travelling through my mind I am a seer.
I’m in love with an idea,
This idea is an untouchable spectre,
And with my intuitive detector,
I detect its origin, it’s in my soul,
But now with the desire coming in,
Coming in in bounds and flicks and one mighty roll,
I remember what the silence stole,
The silence of this concept,
And I reflect, on the reason why no answer is coming,
I must stave off this crumbling,
Crumbling of my heart, must keep it beating and drumming.
Oh why is it so unforthcoming?
Because I can’t imagine the words of another,
It would only be another word from my mind.
And I find, and I discover,
This idea is love with intricacy,
Such a delectable delicacy.
I feel it in its immediacy,
Concretely. But initially, lacking intimacy.
Where do I turn to find such a thing?
A connection beyond the cogitations,
With passionate love to bring,
A reflection of my desideration’s.
Consecrations of the heartbeats,
Longing is strong and hope never retreats.
You can do no wrong with love in your being,
That is what the world needs
For us to sow seeds,
But that’s not what I’m seeing,
I gander but do not witness,
The sprouts of love and peace,
Let’s plant them in the stillness,
And feel the release,
The seed that will grow,
Soon they will show,
And grow in emotive ways,
It never decays,
Come on now let’s increase,
All of our compassion and empathy,
We are not each other enemy.
A sudden caprice,
I feel it now and it is correct,
It’s helping me to connect.
And we need that so much more than you think,
For when we’re all gone and others remain,
The world will drink,
Our blood and our sweat and our pain.
It’s time to regain,
Our courage, let us stand tall,
And let forgiveness enthrall.
107
Desideration,
Open and truly heart felt,
Where do dreams come from?

— The End —