on love

[kirby!]

The lover’s song, caught in bloom
Ignoring it’s life is only mere but short.
How should lovers begin?
And how should they end?
They should not be strung through the flesh,
It smells, reeks of death
But my love for you,
Unlike the bloom, rest high on the spark of spirit within you.
Do you not see, that I am not just physically disposed to you
But folded also in mind and more greatly, the soul?
I will not rest on humanly stirs but I find my peace not in mans flesh
But in his creator who resides within him.