This Nameless Thing
What art would attempt expression
when faced with love this intense,
and aspire to the invention
of accurate utterance?
My love defies definition
and derides its audience,
it escapes cute explanation
and eludes my eloquence.
Even the world’s foremost writer
could never hope to translate
this nameless thing that a lover
feels, yet can’t communicate—
save by nuance and inflection
of endearing sentiment,
and the steamy, primal passion
of a love self-evident.
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Ron