Poetic Ironies of Introduction


To whom it may inspire

To love a poet; pasts can be revised, futures imagined with exuberance and love, ah yes love, our’s sculpted in stone as the eternal benchmark for all others to hopelessly seek. The now will be forever envisioned in each other’s eyes and made more beautiful. Time will never simply tick away, but be the metronome of our heartbeats in sync. Though sadness inevitable for it is this love of life, love of love and love of words to express that may seemingly leave too little time for true love, it is not I assure you, for time can concentrate, intensify and encapsulate. Be my ecstasy and I forever yours. Two timers need not apply as heart breakers divide and multiply, others free to indulge and imagine with me a mutual double fantasy. Seeking inspiration, passions and enthusiasm with enthused inspired passion. Innuendo not implied for it is implicit. Thus is me, I conclude.

Hopelessly Hopeful…

 

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