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Paradoxic Intuition
It seems to harbor wrong,
yet nothing has seemed so right.
When time defines nay short nor long
your all is to its flight.
The heart skips.
A pulse or lack that causes such
suggests a lapse in life flows touch,
in fear it bleeds the moment wrong;
in love proclaims enchanting song.
So cast the fear into a stone
and sink it to a place unknow,
where reach can't pardon such a crime;
for heart should pause for precious times.
Only love should cause time's still,
a place called home, of endless thrill.
The paradox lies in what can compare,
to thoughts which speech can't simply share.
She's out there in your sight or mind,
and to all else this moment blind.
Your dreams do feast on tastes galore,
to spark emotions to adore.
And questions may rise among the fray
of what to do and what to say,
and if you knew if her's did skip,
would a different phrase roll off the lip?
A war rages on twixt fear and hope,
where one does soar and one does mope;
so choose thy side to rally son,
but, thru hope: one has already won.
