Moulded
By dovalmac
Mon, 13 Sep 2004
- 231 reads
Moulded
She sways me this way and that
The whence of my passion
Identical loss, identical gain
Confounding self love.
Moulded by her spirit
In fitting harmony
In naked mutilating truth
Interdependent, essentially sensual.
No Godly union this
No amor intellectualis
Languishes inadequate in deep darkness
Bounded, grounded at the rungless ladder base
Random pleasure abounds
Brimming with remote distortions
No inkling, no vision of signs
Fruitless in its eternal reward
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