Love's identity is lust
The rest is history
We are sawing much of it
There are dusts of the wood ready to be blown
The sanctity of love is mired
Sounds strange, doesn’t it?
But it is there at top gear
You like to love, kiss and go lustily
Consume on something heartily lusty and fleshly
You get locked in like a bee in a lotus on a sunlit morning
You are too obsessed with the bubbles dripping from her pinky lips
You say Ah! I am in cloud nine
"My mistress hides me in the burrow of your breasts
I am yours and only yours"
Once up you are back to your everyday humdrum
You have already exhausted the sap of love
Or the taste of the sap is gone
You want another cup and another sap
That is how life and love goes arm in arm
Your ideals apart
Two lumps of clay got molded into a jar of love
The temporal old hand knows the uselessness of the broken one
Love and lust are entwined
The ancients immortalized the hymns of love and sacrifice
The moderns are paying the costs borne by them
Through their platonic history of love