A Reply to a Russian Beauty's question about Love

I think I am love not that I am IN love, and thus everything I do, say, or create, is the embodiment of love.  To try and construct an idea of love, only removes one from the experience and power that being in love and the embodiment of love is or rather can be in the mind and views of a truly conscious and practicing lover.  All manner of attempts at revealing the essence of love through words has and continues to be made poetically and through a cascading roar of being the substance of which is pure love.  Love is multidimensional in its extension, perception, awareness, energetics, and sexual yoga.  

Only our minds prefer to operate in a linear fashion because such thinking never goes beyond that style of thought or its limits, which do not approach love but only intellectual linear sketches and explanations which again have linearity as their essence, much like a menu is a linear list of loving variations (one hopes) on nutritious dishes of all manner and sort. That is not love but it is essential to man's physicality and relevant possibilities, to build new systems in a continuously evolving technological world.  

The context and basis for such associative and linear thinking is easily reduced to dualistic views and dichotomies with the overriding need to be right at all costs, a mechanical way of being with severely limited possibilities.  Love embraces, includes, transcends, procreates, integrates, as well as creates new platforms and possibilities of technology but always in doing so love makes it fun and an adventure with no particular or essential need to be right about anything only our need to be with what is remains upon the glassy surface of humanity's ocean of Being.

Lover

my heart beats
sound your name
in my soul as clear
as rain, as radiant as
the sun, and as deep
as the ocean, as beautiful
as a starry night, and more
fragrant than any rose.

~ Gravity Rose

My pricked and bleeding hand

from a thorny rose afront…

Betray a beautiful but brutal flora

as I smell tears blossom wet.

The fault and pain made mine
must be innocent opposition

to the collapse, a bad recoil that

needs of pride, yet sovereignty denies.

Love, infatuation, ruined innocence

just like water, cures the harmful fire.

Life of the innocent, bliss of ignorance

And the inevitable spiraling romance.

Until then, you and I, dance
the tragic heartbreak tango
ever more at stake and lost

until along steps mi amour.

First - With a graced context

teaching Möbius like a trick

to faux openings for closures,

rented moves that fail in situ.

My sadness grows despite
a tender feeling so kind

no release she falls and is

broken, in words that rattle.

Her articulation on my failure

in years passed, razes future.

Her hope of change betrayed

by prickly shadow's domain.

Grown up and a bigger man,

her words strike scarred rain.

How I live feels so amiss

inside of skeptical and pissed

This live blooming rose path

has been my lucky chagrin

no grave warnings for refrain

but gravity into reddish injury.

 

Of her earlier thorns...
I never understood her plan
She never felt safe with me
Two years later, a broadside?

I cut her off in chat, my bad
she writes, I can’t talk to you
plain and simple boy slam-fest
brat she said ran me thru bad

my anger made a poor discredit
This probe escalated into strike
Laying grounds for a challenge.
Tomorrow, a sober story will tell.

© 5/17/04, RJDuberg

rev 9/2016