The altar of love
Bears a crushing resemblance
To war, a soft circle
Of moss where we once lived
Tied to each other in disparity
And our hearts moved
Rhythmically, as tender
As the unison of poorly
Led troops, to be sacrificial lamps
In a game as old as life
To smooth the flowering grass
Of all that we once prized
The immoral gods were not
So immortal, after all
As our eyes once devoured
Each other, dear –
All bids disarm, all decades fade
The wild alarm of youth’s soul
In rage, on the brink of
The quivering skin of festivity
Forever trapped in time
Both in sight and sound
Speechless as a cherished tomb. Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/nobody-knows-399333467
Wuji Seshat 