THE BETTER HALF
An agony untold, I
can’t suffer more,
Suffice it to be
poles asunder;
If thou art thus
distant, ever to be so,
My body shall remain
a burnt offering!
Descend quick my
love, My parts complete,
Lest this futile
half, to ashes should recede;
Like a wanton moth
locked within the flower,
Let me wriggle
myself, seeking the holy cup.
As a flimsy star,
roaming round the spheres,
Only to be sucked by
the sunny hole;
I waste my potent
store, waiting for the pull,
Open the secret door
to eternal carnal bliss.
Dr. Karickam
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