Purpose (Predestined Love)
Clear archetypes, without pangs of sorrow and wonder
That move you reassuringly in definite awakening,
Or guide you to the orifice what you left
Your stories exposed, poorly hinged by someone,
Whom you will nudge and detach: the life of its purity
Is swiftly brightening above the sonic of your laughs;
Melancholy that lives will let your chances stay—
Darn, frailty! Let them die!
We know that life is steep, and earth’s meditation
Begins unlike heaven’s long evening under the first shadows
Of moon, your mornings would come out, or you are foreshadowed.
Make that now, earth’s sorrow the mission,
There are myths if earth is beheld more than deemed,
You never forego who you had lived for!
Love is a beach outside the windows, a full bridge,
For whom it receives the opposing end of giving;
love buys the humble mind’s altar to Chance.
They have seen beloved, who detest pride. More so,
where two bodies, hungry for one another, discover
blissful moments, and echoing the laughing
of incredulous behavior, on earth—that are and making
their imaginary grand lives beyond their kisses, and keeping
all in their otherworldly days, all without a breather.
Many can’t hold onto those days. And they see love become stale,
diminished infinitesimal, which was the bitter truth.
Bewilderment is always around the foot and neck,
and lives brighten through touch about touch.
Some of this isn’t enough; and some of love isn’t all but this.
An orange, orange. A guava, guava. A pearl, pearl.
Yes. The art of all, a given.
Orange is orange or guava is guava or pearl is pearl.
And all is not what is given, but what it gives.
What they give is what they are given to.
And how you perceive is more than it is.
The meat of the orange is guava and pearl.
Cause the meat of the orange gives, to you, the orange.
The color of the guava beats none but guava.
The guava you know is the guava guavas compete with.
An orange is an orange that is orange, and more so.
Pearl is the name given for its color, not like other pearls.