Light on adultery

We are not falling in love,
for love is an addition to light
that falls out of the shadows,
the way a song is descending
with high and low tunes
or water colours seeping
into a moist paper landscape
with branching-out veins
that owe their brightness
to force of contrast rather
than to inherent strength.

Love falls out of the shadows
when we least expect it.
Only afterwards we try to shed light on it,
the precise moment that shook us
in a breath, almost by chance,
when we knew.

We are not to blame, we say,
we're mere catalysts imbibing scent,
transforming the lustre of someone's
eyes and voice into food for the soul.
Whatever the damage, later, we see it
as an act of god, a flash of lightning.
We are but the victims,

when we knew,
in a breath, almost by chance
the precise moment that shook us.
Only afterwards we try to shed light on it.
When we least expect it,
love falls out of the shadows.