Love Is

Love is the undiscovered country.
That distant sparkle of white light on a liquid velvet night horizon.
That prickle of warmth in the icy flow of a black ocean's glass surface.

Love is a thread to the future,
extended into a distant fog, pulled,
taut and heavy, thin, weak, uncertain, ragged.
An organic fibre; hope.

Love is the hot drink in dreams,
sweet and yellow.
The honey rain that spatters on a coffin lid of polished amber wood,
lowered away and down on a winter's afternoon.

Love is a lighthouse lamp.
A single screaming swift at dusk, a miniscule slice of crescent black.
A grain of salt on the kitchen floor.
A curl of milky aniseed in a syrupy liqueur.
A lost ant with a robot mind.
The next digit of pi.
The last breath before death.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.