Contrapposto

From my catalogue of love poems that are soon to be published.

Her mind was the 1st circle of Dante’s cataclysm. & from the 2nd circle, we were devoured.

The holiness of our bodies, were designed to reach the Sistine Chapels. The near immortalisation of Adam, was an indication, that men can strive to become Gods. Eventually, we discovered that our hearts were too fallible.

Before the creation of Man, came the creation of Earth. & centuries on, Man has been able to define, the powers of Law.

He has enslaved the Earth. He has sculpted his ambitions, between the heavens and the worlds & in the midst of his hells, he has ensued on senseless exhibitions, of Dante’s 3rd Circle.

The fall from the Lord’s Grace, is revised on the walls of Rome Where Pontiffs reigned, on the Divine’s electorate.

Lovers have no visions, of who presides on their fate. Predestined souls are riven & torn by judicious powers.

In Madrid, I spoke no words of the Mother Tongue. Yet I found myself making love to her, in the Royal Academy of Music. The dedication to Queen Sofia. The violinist’s interval. Instances of heart, & Alma.

We roamed in the coloured streets of Sol. In her brokered English, the exchange of searching eyes & demeanours of la calma.

& you know, how lovers they come and they go. & they too, like Adam & Eve, are near-immortalised in the soul’s literature.

& like the Eyes of David, I am wary of Rome. Wary of where I allow my heart to go. Positionally, I’m the statue of David, in the Art of contrapossto.