Love Itself Poem by Patti Masterman

Love itself becomes very dry,
When you've been long at the buffet;
And teachings all more endlessly the same,
For every hour that you stay.

And soon it seems, you can't discern
One from another, they're so alike;
So you sit complacent, like an interloper-
But mind gives up, and stops its fight.

Things of the spirit are barely digestible,
And don't satisfy imaginings at all;
But the whole of the ghost, eats the best
Of the host, and makes of love a festival.