throbbing loud and hard with fervor

Throbbing loud and hard with fervor
making risky ripples inside
Do we at once, turn and walk away
or stay and take the ride?
A risky endeavor
that cannot be measured
but in leaps and bounds of selfless action
feelings are crisp
like edges of aged leaves
poking through our feet, providing traction
certainly indescribable,
for lack of better or worser words
which seeking for would be as fruitless as the sinners' tree
and as isolating as Kafka's absurd
Writing in colors without definition
in books without binding or edges
filling it with songs absent their rhymes
hanging it off hundred-story ledges
On the tide of tricky desire
burning up gems of blue and gold
bars and flakes and hearts that break
riding as brilliantly as the bejeweled we behold
Swimming steadily in our emotions
through endless lakes, we wail and swallow
loving from belly to thigh, from drunken eye to eye
inciting physical sensations, within we wallow
Grasping the electric while we are able
leaving behind the stable but useless words that restrain
rather we ride the current throbbing cable
since what we are together, is what love is to pain

truth-less reality

For his project in Chandigarh, Le Corbusier asked his head engineer “What is the truth really?” Then he drew two parallel lines, with a wavy line in between. “Truth is like a river,” he said, “it flows continuously, changing course, modifying itself, without ever touching either bank”.