The Perfection of Love
By Desert Simba
In my imperfect being I seek the love of my Beloved. And the passion that does not stop at barred windows, Or shut to the sight of light, crawls across the divide. My love knows its limitations well I see it un-bred and unborn and yet alive and aware. Shackled to my losses I stand defeated by my hearts woes, And yet my eyes see further ahead then the horizon. I am not oblivious to the scars of love, For in their conflicts one shapes destiny. Like children playing with clay Becoming for that fleeting moment the creators. And as journeys begin and others end, The signposts will not record your being there or here. Somewhere in your heart will be chalked a little line And only you shall know what it means. And somewhere hidden in the space between moments My heart shall await answers it cannot create. And muster the courage to face questions if should not ask. But then true love is not conditioned by outcomes. It is simply there. Like some perfect flame that has burned its imperfections away Knowing its existence is enough to be felt. Written January 31st, 2002 © on Jan 31 2002 06:06 AM PST 0 • 8
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"In my imperfect being I seek the love of my Beloved...."