Less Often Than Once
Life has been given me
more times than truth would dare,
Death has passed by
less often than once.
You say symmetry, symmetry
prevails around here!
I beg to differ,
the inanimate is not to fear.
Love knows no kind or state
of mind
where thoughts in line
perpetuate the logic of time
but only lives in the knowledge
that nothing perpetuates itself
except itself.
To bear fruit
is to feel the geometry of syntax
in the movements
of self-willed digits.
Yet the semantics of my heart
is to divine
the course of my fingers
riding into
the horizon of your skin.
I hear the noises
that contaminate
the streets and suburbs
of man’s blueprints and plans
but only the rhythms of your heart
channelling love’s winds of joy
make it into the soul of my land.
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