It Is Not As If I Chose This
It is not because I chose this
In deed it was your breath and kiss,
Which wander’d through protective fences,
Guarding me from love’s pretenses.
I was a hurt flower,
Nestled in a tower,
Not ready for anything deep,
Vaulted instead in earthly sleep.
In small traces you opened a door,
Reaching in, you placed a seed in my core.
From sediments below a tree of life did grow,
A story rose, a light I came to know.
For she whose faith proved to be my mate,
It never came too late.
Leading the way, my heart from doubt,
Feeling finally what love is about,
A path appeared before my eyes,
Calling, calling, forget past lies.
The moment my soul kneeled,
Our future in absolute blood was sealed,
Which is to say,
By stroke of metaphorical play,
That the water of life is to be found,
Not under our feet in the ground,
But in the words we commit to,
There, and only there, is the mighty clue
....
The topos of life is layered,
In themes beyond the mighty herd,
Whose role is to keep the jungle order,
A dull knife wedged upon nature’s border:
To keep the words away,
Whose birth would surely slay,
The exhibitions of felt thought!
By which the icy laws have taught:
Out of nothing can not come something more.
A mighty wrong equation, that’s for sure.
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