Could I have written a love letter,
With the visible images scattered,
With the invisible senses that sprout,
Spreading the mind in thousand roots.
Had you been the appetite of my hungry heart,
My unquenchable thirst's saturation,
A lake to cool and soothe all temptations,
My vagabond stopped awhile and mused.
Ah! the heterogeneous in me is wild,
It sucks nature's milk and grows terrible,
Violates today's time and tomorrows profile,
It is multitudinous cosmic of ever growing flood.
I need to discover the language to write,
From the mine of Love's alphabet,
Morpheme, phoneme, paradigm, inflection,...
And study of orgasm and unified field.
The love in me is unfelt and unrealized,
And if ever that Deluge, that Sun, that Volcano rise,
I would have the privilege to see the Lover,
Than the unwritten love -letter to write.