Kiss 5

Perhaps I should light a match
And count the number of seconds it lasts.
The ephemerality of most things.

The kiss that blazes and dies
In a flash. The ending of a movie
That opens the waterworks. The
Canvas that your eyes glean
Beauty from.

And there is no picture-perfect
Science to appreciation. You open
The eyes on the out and the in,
To heighten feeling to a vantage point
From where you sponge what caresses
The inner-sanctuary.

A climate that has no weather forecast
Or some fancy prelude
The storm of beauty – the fine art of esotericism
That ravages the human heart
Of malignancies that endure
Beyond a match-stick moment.

In that brief impermanent interlude
You embrace the source
Of the kinetics of beauty

Catalyzing substrate
To aesthesis.

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