Love makes itself,

In a Look,So telling, so deep,That it resists and defies,All of Love’s secrets,And about feelings,Talks miles.

The fleeting moments are not,For us to grasp and hold,And what was done and told,A memory that will not last,Shadowed stories of our past.We can’t control Time,Even if we wish,Life is a Mocking Bird,Served as a strange dish,Garnished with Time,With a bitter twist,And a green taste of limeOr maybe,Just Nature’s crime?

Sometimes goes beyond the Artist, himself,It is not a question of education,But of Illumination,A type of Sainthood,An unexplainable Inspiration,Explodes! Into True artistic creation,That is born Suddenly!Without, hesitationAnd I believe that in this Miracle,Lies the unanswered Mystery,Of All Creation.

I’m tired of thinking,Tired of mental percussions,That lead to no where,Things don’t ever,Really change,They just mutate,Into other discussion,That also don’t get you There.

So much to thinkAnd yet we’re lostWithout Love’s link.

All of them take you farther,In the world you wish to attain.