A Useless Thing Called Love

Remember speaks its semaphore in passing eyes elicit stare coquette the lip is waiting for some smoldering shadow shall dare Make threat to mountain with needles point and clasp impetuous the hawthorn bush for care not so the virtuous caught as petulant to cause the bloods ignited rush Such a useless thing called love the demon of a feather sent afloat artist of another happenstance in truth tempered to the molten coin of a harlot And tumescent in the trespasser of panders to a daydreams lecherous thirst but claims to burn the yearning of and in mockery damns the broken heart to burst Make threat to mountain with needles point where so many as want the angels will dance upon better for worse or dissonant the parting shrift or parting gifts delusion Beaten down to overburdened exultation this poets cantankerous pen or places in mythos such heady legend a chocolate box of promises given Still hammers bitter nails on libations grasp treasured name so driven to agony 'till uttered with the final gasp this ambrosia whispered into eternity Freedom gained repentant of sightless prison so open embraced surrendering kiss as to quivering hand the lover seeks expression and relinquishes all to hubris Love be-damned to a useless thing called love For what love wants is naught neither in the service of soul nor to spirits radiance brought nor for love, is loves portent of, loves only goal