C'est l'amour

>> Saturday, February 5, 2011

may be it was Love
in crystal February atmosphere,
beneath golden electric lamps
suspended in lucent air,

when you gave your right hand
wine obliterated those blazing rays
reflecting glimmering stars
like sequins in dark gauze

all was turbulence; without
within, a tranquility prevailed,
adorned with grave murmurs of
harp caressed in zephyr

we were monarchs reigning a scepter
a kingdom was ours
a kingdom of roseate ether,

in an ensuing pause
as though our empyrean awaited
an unraveled splendor
you smiled, your Dionysiac smile

making it all at once
so far off yet so near

virile and effete
angelic or demonic
we stood on our feet
in an apathetic nakedness
watching our world fade,

afterward we wondered, was that Love
which vanished like gossamer,
that antediluvian force of nature
was it pain,
or pleasure?



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