Member Poem

Meaninglessly meandering about
This ocean of unforgiving uncertainty;
Love--
I often wonder about,
The significance of swimming
When drowning is so easy
I wonder, 
How splashing and struggling
Leaves one perplexed
Of its surroundings.
Turns out, if being in love
Is being wet
In all the nuances of the ocean,
No one can ever be wetter 
Than they already are.
Be it a bucket 
Than being at the bottom of 
Pacific. With a body still,
But no soul, no love.

And then there's fire.
Is love fire, then?
Which burns, 
Hair and skin
Bones and flesh.
Alike, as if paper
Not desire, nor lust
Pure affection
Devoid of unbecoming sensations
That lasts until 
The fire does
Without any remainder
And when the flame ends
So does the body.