Ever uncertain in the great game
that we all call love,
Hearts that twine around
in twisting bonds of affection,
lust, devotion and pleasure.
But still worries flare,
Spider webbing cracks of despair,
Crackling across the shells of
feelings freely offered up and
laid at Eros' fancy-free feet
or upon Venus' incense choked altar.
Those fumes that hang over,
The pure air of their union,
Plumes of doubt to stain
their hearts' desires and choices
and the joy that guides them on.
That precious fluttering beacon,
Passion fuelled and burning bright.
Choices made cannot be unmade,
Caution is the council given,
Preparative thoughtfulness is required
before such commitments are made...
But still the lovers dance on,
Hand in hand with bodies close.
Their choice was made from the first,
A choice that will endure to the last,