Bonded
When breathing starts to slow after the peak,
lovers think of things missed in the rapture.
In each other's arms the answers they seek
are disclosed in truths they did just capture.
They know they have enacted in equal share
the birthing hurting, rejoicing, and dying.
There in love's nest the cosmos is laid bare,
it was defined 'ere sleep ended their sighing.
Scholars wrestle with wherefores and whys
airing theories in many an erudite journal.
But true lovers look into each other's eyes
to fathom what is real, true, and eternal.
(One of my older poems posted on
another site.)
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