Bonum Amoris ( Ideal Love)

Of far subtler...

words forgot...

I note...

that love's...

a questing thing...

more accustomed...

to some...

increment of loss...

than multitude of gain...

in love...

what humans...

truly are...

is vague...

uncertainly conceived...

of finer realms...

undoubtedly...

descend...

and yet...

fair love...

takes that...

slow air...

to rise again...

have we then...

chosen tears...

are lover's prone...

to mournful calls...

apart...

as loons...

on lakes...

or doves...

without a mate...

beyond all hope...

and yet...

we pray desire...

be not in vain...

for it is rare...

that love...

is ever consummate...

still...

there is that...

sublime surreal sense...

that one would...

rather not profane...

of those that...

we may never...

know again...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Painting: Noonday Heat, by Henry Scott Tuke 1902