Love is grief

At the centre of love is a whirlpool

cadence of which is known to the lovers

anyone who falls in it is a fool

thinking its a meteoric rise to power


but a sullen in the eyes of an albatross

who gigantic it may seem, undone is the colour

of money with lovers nailed on the cross

and in composure the sleep looses the pallor


from greyest hour till now

the whole world is but a fringe

on which is cast the gravest doubt low

and the foolish believe it with a cringe


that love is the solemn moment of importance

and does not depend upon chance




3 thoughts on “Love is grief

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