Love’s Nomadic Passion

How nomadic this passion
wanting little of settlement,
longing to be free,
but shallow of the way.

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

How discordant the disappointment.

 
But onward Love pushes,
often traversing virulent mountains of hope,
seeking a perfection oft nonexistent.

Love finds instead a blindness into clouds ,
rendering white-outs from reality,
where alone with self-worth,
allusions usher in disdain.

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

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

How beautiful the ragged savagery,
Love's worn, yet indomitable resolve ,
questing beyond mere humankind's summits,
seeking landscapes made walkable within
where caress and gentle footsteps
make needless one's whip and spur delusion.