monalisa

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Its beautiful to be loved
lovely to be wanted
and no doubt heavenly to be adored,
for why then would we struggle so much
to be known,to be seen,to be acknowledged?
This is for she,for he,for they..
for her who knows inside her that no sensation measures up to his caress,
to him whose answers to all her questions is Yes,
to they who know that they complement each other
and that without the other they are no more.
They that know how beautiful,lovely and heavenly it is..
To my one,whose breath is song to my ears
who's voice is music to my heart
and whose speech is lullaby to my weary soul.
The very sight of her is the MONALISA to me,
framed in the finest of gold,
and put behind shady crystal.
Seeing her is feasting on the finest of Roman painting.
She is the picture thats a secret to a secret;
most of the time I think I know her,
but its only in the least of times that I do..
so good,so beatifying is,this that we have..
so beautiful that it pushes fright into me,
and gets me to think;
what if?
What if this amazing but frighteningly good thing isn't realty?
What if I am climbing a rock that is breaking?
What if I am giving all to something thats not even viable?
What if I am painting the winds?
running in quicksand?
and worst of all resting belief in uncertainty...

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