One Moment

What is it, in the 'old master's' paintings? 'That light' from within, the soul of a thing, 'the presence'? Who stood there, suffering the facts...gazing on those naked men and women?

Whoever they were, they had beautiful minds, with beautiful thoughts...even of directed lust, surpassing fancy. Holding gently, that enouement...of a future sight, that love, of every kind...is right.

They were the captors, of those moments on the grass, among the forest bowers, prying with keen eye, lover's in their nests...where all the powers of gods came down to this, this moment of amore'...sublime erotic bliss, life force. No wonder, they were drawn to this, one glimpse...

...of love


Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: cupid and psyche, Francois Edouard Picot