Lust's Holiness Poem by Susmit Panda

LUST was chaste when I loved you;
It wouldn't be born of my fibre or flesh
But of my heart; it had Love's own hue,
Love's own perfume, sweet and fresh;
It would rage like a holy fire of Heaven,
In its luxurious riot would flicker and shine
A smile of innocent bliss, like in the sparking den
Of clouds a star lamped by its lips benign;
The nectars of Love's joy would bathe my pleasure -
Lust was chaste when I loved you;

The art in your hair, the sculpture in the measure
Of your breasts shoot my muscles anew;
But parted as our eyes Love is dead,
Lust's fangs are, therefore, no more sacred