…but who could really say how love started–or for what reason? Isn’t it true that the minute one reasons out one’s falling in love, it stops to really be love but just a piece of rationalization? And there are always words…
By eaa1118
Image by Nieve44/La Luz via Flickr
I loved you yesterday for no why at all
The moments loaded with the purest sight
I couldn’t care for care was all
It spelled me right down to its might
It was like suddenly being hurled to you
with whatever destiny’s blinding speed
Determined to just whirl on until you
Unspin my unrest to its need
So it seemed, but in this utter heart
The stilled inertia stirred up solitudes
Often suspecting on the verge of art’s
Sweet half-lies seeding mystic truths
What did it matter—I loved you yesterday
Diminished I might be for my self-concern
But sorrows ceasing, or by honesty governed
More blinded than blind, having learned of you
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