He said to me, <br />That it sometimes <br />Does not exist, at least <br />Not in this life time <br />Certainly not on his <br />Tongue, and never from <br />His very own mouth <br />It is not to be seen <br />But believed in <br />Like some Old God <br />Only the tribal speak of <br />And even they are <br />Thought of as savages <br />When they possess this <br />Thing- this entity that <br />So many speak of <br />Too many dream of <br />But none will ever have <br />No society can hold it <br />No man can capture it <br />This beautiful thing <br />That he cannot practice <br />Because of what or whom <br />He has chosen to serve <br />This evil emotion <br />Seen as the preferred taste <br />Of the flesh-eating <br />He tells me they call it Love<br /><br />Stefanie Fontker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forbidden-52/
