Been equivocated about Love.
It’s origins.
It’s processes.
It’s whereabouts.
It’s potency.
At the whore houses of France,
The most beautiful women,
Those that can only be found on dreams,
But, above all, occupy the lazy mind,
Taught me the way to liberation,
The righteous path to wisdom,
The never ending process of Life.
But, above all,
They taught me the measure in which Love,
True and undoubted Love,
Must be wept.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário