Love short poem

A little flicker on the edge
A darting dog’s last day
A dagger from a dancing eye
A thought of buried clay

Love that’s unseen may be unfelt,
and may as well be blind
as he who loves, as he who’s loved
Although it fills, it hides.

It’s always been, within, without
it nourishes the flame
It cares for life, and yet it kills
It never has a name.

For we are love and love is us
The darkest and the bright
The lucid most, and the insane
now old yet still with might.

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1 Comment on "Love"

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Reyvrex Questor Reyes

How fitting a delineation for love. But love is not blind. People must have gotten that idea when they have to grope in the dark and feel where their love is. The language of touch, you see, can be employed even as an adjunct to visiual communication. Or the heart, in choosing used other criteria, the tangible ones more than the visible manifestation.


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