Smokescreens 0320

Pretence retains no sense if at a click
affections disappear, mere scaffold built
around presumptions biased, slick, or sick,
faith wraith evaporating in a jilt.

Is Love prestidigitation, magic trick,
or sleight of mind trumps leads to feed life's game
sweeping senses in an augenblick,
Chance challenge, [h]alter-wring Fate's altar aim?

Is Love fidelity through thin and thick,
or contact flashed force source above Earth's fame?
Could Heaven's hand conspire to trim time's wick,
to breath, bequeath eternal force, faith's flame?

Is Love emotion's funnel, fiery, flick
channelled through some prior karmic claim,
lack doubled back from loved-one double quick,
reflecting smoke stack wrack flack whence it came?

Are Love's cards dealt by Chance? hearts in the mood?
Are answers logic lists a_miss_construed?

(3 May 2010)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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