Love's perception of life and death means nothing,
Our concious - what we call thought is the firing of neurolgical impulses;
Nihilism is the perception of all being and all knowing,
Existential types of jargon is ridiculed by a label of pretentiousness -
Life's perception of love and lust means nothing,
Yet we trudge on.
Beauty is an understatement,
Universaly, the stars aligned to bring me you -
The technicality of our romance was nothing to pray about, but all to gain from.
Half-heartedly you accepted my plea at a date,
Annualy, none-the-less, my persistance was alarming, was the
Propulsion of my annoyance what led you to say yes or was the
Preplexity of my charactorial features intriguing to look at?
Yearning of this bugs the brains of brilliance my humility begs to differ at.
Righteous thoughts that manifest in mind to impress you,
Eventually it became a ritual - almost a metastization; Cancerous ironically.
Somewhere, something damned you to a slow sleep -
This is my letter to you, my Sonnet 18, to live forever.
Men seek the day, they wish for the everlasting joy of love, almost
Yearning for their time to be loved, to enjoy the yield of forbidden fruit which opens their mind to the wonders of knowledge; rather affection.
Lust is in no comparison to what you led me to believe was life's purpose,
Ostentatious materialism could pile top the the beasts of Giza and I would feel no different that I do now.
Violence means nothing; subdued to win the favor of notice.
Everything in being means nothing to the emotions of want, need, desire - man's sustanance.
Lonely But Happy -- Rest My Love