The Art of Love

The world stared,
My brain raced with trepidation
The words came
And fell out
Melting to the wind
«What runs the art of love?»
The mind, no!
The heart, I don’t know!
For pain and joy flow from the same source
Obscenities blurred,
Scars sacred
Ranked one with the stars
And adulthood reduced to childhood
How good can we say it?
The tongue is eloquent
For all oratory,
The mind is sharp
For all reason
But heavy and blunt
In the cause of love!

Wambua Nzioka