5_4

you are five dimensions in a four-dimensional world.
around you my senses bend, my logic is curled
like smoke from a fire, reborn from a coal.
a metaphored passion that bursts from my soul
to explode with a fury that causes no harm,
that should bid no distraction and raise no alarm.
the fire is warmth that is cool and white-hot,
giving truth to the legends that once you had thought
were but stories they told you to give you a dream
of a world where romantics could live by the theme
of love as a part of life, light and night shared,
with no memories to poison, no karma compared.
when we accept the emotions and devotions of those
who have given us all without pretense or pose.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I have no recollection of why I titled this poem thus.