She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not... - Poem by Alice Perfect
Springtime in the hills has arrived!
Hold my hand, let us walk outside!
God's finest raiment here adorned
splendor for us, our hearts warmed
Each color brilliant from God's pallet,
abundant for all, no need for wallet!
Let's sit, my love, in soft green grass,
smell the fragrance, no thing crass
Delicately, I reach a Poppy, I pluck
Visual splendor and sweet to suck
What is this, feel like guessin'?
Moving slowly to today's lesson
'A perfect flower' says the dame,
'Now let's play a little game'
She loves me, she loves me not,
she loves me, she loves me not...
Now I hand her a bare stem
Now what is this I bring?
She slowly, thinks, 'a-hemm'
No longer a flower, a bare thing
Where is the flower that we just beheld?
Did it end when its beautiful petals felled?
That lushness, its wonder, we once smelled.
All this ended when petals were quelled?
Where do you begin, where do you end?
Where is love now, where is it then?
Are not all 'things' made of the Same,
depends on how The Self will arrange?
What made all things and then arranged?
Are not all things in divine order maintained?
Is God in the object
or the space between?
That only seen,
or also divinity in the unseen?
Who looks for beginning,
who looks for an end?
Who is in love now,
who seeks understanding
when it ends?
Does the seeker ever cease?
Who seeks the seeker,
that answer will please.
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