In love’s sweet moment
Of reaching one height or two
Time seems to stand still
While you listen to the
Petite-mort’s breathing
Your soul’s distant pulses
Of conquering one peak
And another…
That’s how the poet recalls
His experiences of ecstasy.
Later in life the artist lives
From these kind of memories
His past Muse has imprinted
In him
For life’s never been
That sweet.
His spouse wanders on
Another plane
Another projection to life
The artist has tried visiting
Many times
Not that successfully.
Yet friendship still prevails
But like in love
Some friendly moments
On a congruent line of
Understanding
Last only a morning
A day
And no longer.
A called that bittersweet.
The bittersweet in love.
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’19.