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by Choene Alley Semenya, September 16, 2014

How jejune is a wish per se when it remains but just a mirage,
Lest for love alone my heart desires without adventure and courage?
How dull can a wish be if it has no intentions of being achieved,
And let my soul rather with mirth rejoice instead of being grieved-
'Twixt honesty and truth, of which thereof shall I at least be true to myself?
For not in love neither, shall I denounce my fear and succumb to love itself;
What do I do now that I know not what to do? It confounds me-
If dire fears had not precluded me, but stood still and let nature be,
I would not fail my wish, as much as it would fail me not;
That therefore from love I shall peace harvest, and remember not
The worst that broke me and the secrets contained in my amber glass.
O, in advancing quest of my utmost, love trial has reached an impasse-
Because I are to secure a lover whose love is of truth and not of pity,
A lady whom shall henceforth give me no reason whatsoever of insecurity.

Written: December 2012
Tags: Emotions Fear

The © Copyright to this poem is owned by the author.
Published by writerslounge.net on September 16, 2014 under courtesy of the author.

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