May 18, 2008
Incomplete
Pitter-patter of the heart.
The uncontrollable smile that tightens the cheekbones
and fills the body with a Shakespearian sonnet;
On a Mills and Boon swoon.
‘
And yet its source is amazing! Electro-chemical autonomous response
to the things around us that we are destined – nay programmed – to feel.
One kiss and we are filled with a painter’s determination;
Our purpose to connect, our destiny to replicate.
‘
It’s not that I don’t feel it.
It’s not that I don’t understand it.
It’s simply that the mechanics dulls the sparkle of the miracle;
That nests within the scape of affectionate resolute wealth.
‘
The cold machinery of Darwin, Freud, Plato,
all conspiring to explode the deepest resolute sureness
of feelings that are so personal, so emotionally wrapped up;
Shaped by humanity’s thymos, our need to be loved by all others.
‘
So what’s to be?