If I love
The heart would loosen from its latch
Broken cords in the chest’s middle
Like in the middle of the garden
Where the fruit of eternal life germinates
The eyes would salivate with every bite.
Who should love?
When the mind disagree, purifying
realities of anxieties, lurking
in the darkness of every corner; waiting
to devour love’s very flesh,
bones and ashes.
It hurts silently,
with a sharp voice in the void.
Like the sound of rain on the moon
A baptism too familiar,
with little drops here and there.
Can it move this mountain –
If I love?