The Start and End of the Line – A poem about love and lust, which becomes overcomplicated in a bipolar mind

New is flesh,

Old is form.

I haven’t tasted you yet,

Sacred like a holy life form.

Flesh new, it’s you.

Form old, forces ancient unfold.

Stuck still,

I am yours to do what you will,

Frozen bones,

I turn to stone.

Your heat rises,

Melts away mortal disguises.

Love more painful than hate,

An evolutionary mistake?

Lust more explosive than an atom bomb,

Devastatingly powerful like the Sun.

When two are combined,

More powerful I find.

Scary for onlookers, the couple remain blind.

Can the inaction of observations burn away everybody’s time?

[Written: 2025-09-14]