Who do l Iove?: A poem 

You ask me: who do I love? 

And spring blossoms in my bosom like a soaring dove 

My flowers never go grey under any cloud 

Even if they are unceremoniously plucked out 

and left to die in vazes throughout  

You ask me: what do I want? 

And all my desires come crowding to haunt 

like cyclones ripping apart a calm autumn sky 

And I fumble, yet my resoluteness doesn’t die 

determined by austerity. Don’t ask me why 

You ask me: what do I dream of? 

And waterfalls cascade in my mind. All aloft 

are pictures trembling with aspirations’ unrest 

like fledglings wanting to fly out of their nest 

But in my guts, my dreams are only too honest 

You ask me: what will I give my life for? 

And there is a spark, a flame, a fire and a blaze. Therefore, 

my home will never have a fog at the window 

There is my book that starts and ends with `what God art’ 

And there’s all of you in my heart