Love

Asks my inquisitiveness sometimes

of a strange feeling

that is strong,

that is deep,

that is painful,

 that is soothing,

that brings the sickness and the cure,

that is pure.

Asks my inquisitiveness sometimes

of this strange bond

that is this connection

which enables me to breath

which enables me to live

and to live to yearn

for more of days to spend together

till the grey streaks appear and tell the age

till the life departs.

Asks my inquisitiveness sometimes

of the mystery of touch

this touch that gives life

that evolves tempest

tempest of sex

tempest of lust

that gives the security

security from the evil of the world.

Ask my inquisitiveness sometimes

of this speech

that showers as if flowers

and the fragrance from its words

the words that make me a feather

floating and observing

and absorbing the truth

the truth of kindness

the truth of loyalty.

Ask my inquisitiveness sometimes

Of these eyes

Those give me beauty

And assures me of it

Those follow me

Those appreciate my presence

And elevate my rank

Then asks my inquisitiveness all the time

Is this what is called ‘love’?

And yes, it is answered.