A Statue of Eros
Who carved love,
and placed him by this fountain,
Thinking he could control
What’s on the mind of a younger me? Seems to be the same as the older me. I wrote this one over ten years ago:
Flowing through the ever after
coming from the already was.
It calls to all our spirits
promises of happiness.
But often times of some sudden disturbance,
Or is it the ever calmness,
that causes us to imagine the rocks and rapids?
To ride it is sheer bliss,
both sealed and ended with a kiss.
Why does the journey end,
to be repeated, again and again.
To find the one that lasts
To make sense of all those past.