True love

Built on foundations to not ever crumble

stood a solid block of true love

but time took a chisel and chipped every day

until the block was reduced to rubble.

The bits landed in places where humans resided

and as would happen they germinated

to grow the most beautiful “I love you, I do”

in the midst of unbridled chaos.

There followed a time of utter confusion

because humans, of course, had no clue

until finally, finally, they all decided

they’d try their best to just feel it.

So they prodded and stroked and caressed

but, lo and behold, it lay there inert

because it never was taken inside

away from the maddening crowd.

It still grows today in the heat of dismay

which just goes to show that love never dies

but, oh, how it cries in the dead of each night

to simply be taken inside.

And once inside it will blossom and bloom

and be forever a thing to be treasured

but leave it outside and the “I love you, I do”
remains as before inert!

And so ...

The jackpot’s guaranteed yet still the itch of palm

to feel the grain and texture of immortal love

and the scratch and scratch of searching minds

sends the itch a-creeping deep and deeper still

into the psyche, see?

And so the body squirms and jiggles  

in the light of oncoming obstacles

planned to coincide with an indecorous stretch

into the mystical. 

But this … this surreptitious invasion

works silently and stealthily to satisfy the psyche

by whatever means fits the circumstances.

And so there’s pain and no gain, an illness, poverty,

together with the so and so,
 the so and so  of how life goes,  

before the knowing that ~

immortal love is just an itch no human being can scratch

or dent, or break, or disengage from the psyche, see?