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.