Crowning Love

Contemplation (An Act of Love)

I thought:
"The image of a soul engaged with beauty, or some sort of melancholy, in the imitation of word-collages... (could this be love, just perhaps?) They told me:

'How do I know you (now I see you), the form of you, in one unbroken glance of absentmindedness? (It was absent here; the eyes stared at a profound blank.) As I love--I do--I take no flowers as answers; but in that scene, the tremulous voice sounds strenuous and titillating... (some thought it concrete) and the self desires yielding.

'One (thought) is that I thought; the others are scattered like petals, always descending. And if, for reference, you could catch that frame, you could also his sorrow. As usual, let me usher in desires more soundless than words alighting on paper, and tell you: that the glory of weakness is your tremendous, unseen empire.

'How do I care (now that (it (takes a moment) seems) I don't), for the likeness of you, in the way I had just broken from slumberland, at that second--when midnight takes again the maidenhand of luminance? When she does not dance, the shadow takes her style, for entertainment and indefinite purposes, and that could be my better (but the only) solace.

'When you advance, I lead your hand in that delicate way one would take a dove to weigh the beauty of its soul;--but in a tremulous voice, sounding light-hearted and believable, tell you what I (should) avoid(ed) saying, about that heart-sinking tale of a crumbled, soundless empire: formidable in its ruin, endless as time runs; and, panting for water like a deer, from whatever collections there are, (take to) form again a waking regret, (somehow) fallen from the soundest, sweetest dreams.'"

And you thought:
"Endless is the dream, and so is the pain. But that could, maybe, be an act of love..."