The Falling Maples- Living Unconditionally- Poetry by S.S

I love thee, for you lend, wings to my soul, A spirited leap, over the mountains of apathy, Dashing with a verve, hastening from a passive crawl, Your ingress implying, Destiny's scarce sympathy, I love thee, for you grant, breaths to my form, A wishful gasp, from a prolonged asphyxiation, Risen and healing, from the graveyard of forlorn, Resurrected is, my prolonged entombed adoration, I love thee, for there is not one like you, A rhythm with a cadence of chastity, Wherein your charm and gentility brew, Love's luminescence surging from brevity to longevity, I love thee, for a million reasons unsaid, left to the heart's imagination, Perceive if you can, my acquiescent form, seeking your devotion..............                                           ~S.S~

Conveyance of affection, is rather delicate, A denial sequels dejection and the heart suffocates, An acceptance is saccharine as the devotion propagates, So is the dreary decree of adoration, Sometimes a dawning of intense veneration, At times, leading to dismal desire of cessation, An imagination wherein she sees herself as his, Is soon prevailed by his ambiguous comprehension's abyss, authenticating my cognizance, his affections were always amiss........                                 ~S.S~

An abounding splash of your sparkling confessions, Adorn the universe, with what be your words, Are a magnanimous splurge, Of trinkets, brilliant gemstones,baguettes and gullions, I see from the vast Eastern landscapes, How radiantly embellished, is the path, The aisle to my abode, trimmed and resplendent, In all the dazzles of the One promise, One swear, My beloved, I hereby commence, my stride to thee, But Oh, how did that go amiss? Least did I fathom the short lived bliss, I left my land, To kiss the distant sands, But few glorious fragrant mists, And faith in love, merely seemed a heist, Quiet I shall be, 'T is how now you shall see me, No one's, but my own, Until with the winter's winds, I am frozen and gone.... (c) S.S

It's arduous, Baffling, And immensely indecipherable, That grasp, utterly disquieting, Of a stinging desolation midst multitude, Which none can fathom, but I........  (c) S.S