Simpleton’s Love
by Odin Roark
Which are we?
Those who know
Love is not object-oriented
Or
Those who worship individuals
Responding only to reciprocal reactions?
Might there be…
Love without object or flesh
Love which demands no entity
But lives eternally
A sentient ability to be
To see
Smell
Taste
Hear
And touch the untouchable
Except in truth?
Like a desert of sand
Our kernels of existence
You
Me
Remain subject to endless dust storms
That which life's turbulent patterns
Stir up and foist on our consciousness
As the only actuality
Constructs of control
Might such influence
Be void of the principal of love?
Could it be…
In truth
To feel loved
To experience the act of giving love
Is merely a willingness
To be in that state of love
With the tree
The plant
The flower
The human
Even the spirit
Sharing the sublime
Giving back
A part of infinity’s passion
As a way of Being?
Yet
We cling to human love so vociferously
As if that were the quintessential manifestation
When so many innocent caressable realities
Our surroundings
Earth’s infinite support system
Asks for nothing
But
Our
Unqualified living with the grace of love
Void of any simpleton’s resistance
Her's is a wonderfully framed oval face
with startling attributes such as pouty mouth similar to Angelina Jolie...how pretty...
and eyebrows golden brownish snaking around to
make the windows of the soul all that more remarkable
with the golden tones hued with bluish tint-
cheekbones strong and prominent
articulate the facial structure so that the face
is a wonder to behold and this is the face
with all it's components
that could melt a thousand hearts.
The face of today has changed so
evolved over a thousand millenium
from a most prominent brow
to a softer
more refined structure-
herein lies the beauty of the ages
the ever evolving lips, cheekbones, and caressable
ears...
burned into memory
for all time.
coral-colored
sweet lips
pursed
(if i could just once
rest my lips against
that sweetness
i would die happy)
mouthing
words i love to hear
blue eyes sparkling
hidden behind
streaked
soft hair
(i’ve never touched it
though i wish i could
run my fingers
through and through it)
shaken down to cover lens
you never hide behind
from me
and caressable skin
(through that might not be a word)
to the touch so malleable
so warm under my fingers
(to fully run my hands across
said skin
i’m afraid
will happen only in my dreams)
and a mind
so sharp in contrast
that what it produces
what words
tumble out of those
sweet lips
sometimes stun me
into silence.
i am infatuated
in love
with her whole being
her quirks
her humor
the looks she sends my way
eyebrows raised
hair flying as she shakes her head
for me
at me
but never
against me
oh i wish
the things that i wish
that i could do to this
lovely
wonderful
beautiful
girl
who is
in love with me too.