Love-pains
When I imagine the world’s creation,
It is as a match between lovers.
She balks at intrinsic limitations.
He favors play by regulation
And the world is a ball, formed by
His contemptuous envy.
So we, a tangible love-pain
Navigate ethereal planes.
The stars are not her eyes,
But her twinkling teeth in the night,
While she laughs from millennia away
In cosmic avian delight.
Maybe a little rigor in the cadence would do this some good. I'm not particularly struck by it in it's current state.
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