Love.

Love is a fierce and dangerous thing,
A dark torrent under the skin,
Bruising the surface when we catch the stone
Thrown into the air by an unwary stranger
Just passing by,
Just passing time.

And we are lost in the mirror of the eye
Of a stranger who seems to study us
Like the old Red Queen confronting Alice
In the lost garden of talking flowers.
She sees nothing,
Only her features,

Features reflected back to her looking
But twisted as though by rippled glass.

Love is a fierce and dangerous thing,
A torrent rushing over the rapids
Breaking small boats upon the rocks,
Breaking them into a thousand pieces
That drift away
To vanish in a distant ocean.

Love can never be boxed and indexed,
Dammed at source,
Kept in order.
Love breaks every rule and makes none,
A dark torrent under the surface
Bruising the skin when the stone is caught.

And yet without love we are nothing at all,
Not even the echo of a strangers voice.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 17th. 2017.