The dawning of love,
of a primal sighting,
of the works of affinity,
how it becomes clear
as it opens up the senses
and a million words
fall silent to the
language of the spirit,
the domineering influence
that skirts around the mind
and flows into the heart,
a river of oblivion
that has no name,
that lifts lovers into space
with its silken wings,
where intelligence succumbs
to the power of the flow,
a mystic current
on a sacred pilgrimage,
and enchanted cruise
to the heights of love,
into the seat at the throne
of the blessed,
love’s sacred seat
reserved for lovers
of the highest order,
the ones who tasted
the fruits of affinity
for the first time
and succumbed to its command,
an ode to the devotees
of commitment,
the ones who keep it alive
after the intoxication wears off,
the inevitable weakening of
the bond that tied them together
when affinity released its power
and placed it in the hearts of lovers
and in the hands of the committed.

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