Thirty Three . . .

Eternal Declaration/Commitment

By Stormcat

I try to write and my mind goes blank. It’s that for what 

I feel there is nothing I could possibly say that would be 

good enough to honor that essence, that Thoreauian

completeness, complimentary and balanced, imperfectly

perfect, perfectly imperfect.  It seems so easy to speak

anomalously in verse to the honesty of my feelings so

fear should not cause this reluctance but I know that

feelings are what the words are all about . . .  admission

Shall there always be lives that are childless in spite

of overwhelming  motivation? Be it no matter reason

but you my love will be old when your child is grown

and I will be older or worse. Is there love enough

to produce a child against all odds is noble albeit

clumsy - risky - crazy – unwise – irresponsible – noble

the kind that must reward the world  with yet another

genius or idiot,  saint or despot, or . . . something like

So I speak from my passion yet unrealized nonetheless

 set in motion to gain a foothold in purpose. existence

justifying the very presence of mortality, my mortality

clinging passionately actualizing cascading noble effect

subject to the whims of  humanity and the spiritual

universe hoping that the seeds planted will flourish

once the influence of the garden-master passes

un-noticed though the consequence be undeniable

Can you my love forgive us if we can no longer make

a baby or two to show the extent of our desire/

commitment to the religion Family disconnected

from recognizable resonations known as romantic

surely a child or two of amazing beauty and intelligence

shall come from the seed of love that is you and I.

the couple becomes the family becomes the tribe

becomes the nation becomes the universe . . .

one eternal round , , , déjà vu

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