When the youthful heart dies, <br />Our dreams separate from our soul, <br />We accept drudgery and regrets, <br />We no longer believe in love, <br />We think it is impossible to escape <br />Into the world of an exhilarating kiss. <br /> <br />And I’ve become a lonely vagabond, <br />Tramping my way through memories of desire, <br />Praying to goddesses in the darkness of night <br />To rekindle the romantic fire <br />Hidden in the ancient psyche <br />Before humanity became tamed <br />By duties and responsibilities <br />Stifling sensual adventure. <br /> <br />I’ll no longer subscribe to any idea <br />Suppressing the hope of exaltation, <br />I’ll no longer walk any grey concrete path <br />Forever avoiding verdant fields <br />Lush with blissful affections <br />And ripe fruit dripping with lust… <br /> <br />I’m only going to trust <br />The primitive man unburdened with beliefs, <br />Children playing joyously on summer streets, <br />Nymphs dancing beneath inebriating moonlight, <br />Singers inflamed with bowls of wine <br />And visions of the erotically sublime.<br /><br />Uriah Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/visions-of-the-erotically-sublime/
