Love’s Whip and Spur Impatience


How nomadic this passion,
wanting little of settlement,
longing to be free,
but not knowing the way.

How anxious this focus of pleasure,
its gallop past desolate plain
in search of mountainous missions
where reward is often times out of reach.

How discordant the disappointment,
but onward Love pushes,
traversing virulent escarpments of hope,
seeking a perfection often nonexistent .

Love finds instead a blindness inside clouds,
rendering white-outs from passion’s groping,
where confined alone with self-worth,
fantasies usher in self-doubt.

Such is the playful enigma,
sometimes finding contentment idle,
preferring instead a hunter's flurry,
the conquest of possession,
the entrapment of trophydom.

How forgiving the mirror within,
where Love seeks not the fixed-ropes of security,
nor the attachment to object,
but merely respect of inner-reflection's embrace
acceptance of innate compassion.

Rewarding is Love’s

obstacle encountered voyage completed,

a worn, yet indomitable resolve,
questing beyond mere humankind's summits,
to that place in one’s heart

where gentle footsteps,

and tender words,
make needless the whip and spur of impatience.