Love

Love, and the air thick with lunacy.
It floats on the air like sunshine burning,
each air mote touched, each second sounded.
And such candescence sparkles like the angel
we forgot to meet but which does not matter,
the full sky lit for us, the rose nodding approvals
that come like hymns sung loud.

And with the disturbance of the world gone
there is time for pleasure, time
for a pleasure not yet seen
in the dark days of detachment
that filled each moment, each
second burned into the skin,
the atonement of the day's farewells.

Love, and the air thick with lunacy
that touches first the body
then the mind that sees
beauties, our silences over
and the delicate fusion
of minds begun, glad
as the rose petal that cannot

fall whilst someone cares,
as we care,
the soft embodiment
of attachments
that gather in strength
and soothe,
such heavens seen

only once,
yet never forgotten.

John Cornwall

If you've any comments on his poem, John Cornwall will be glad to hear from you.