Beauty fades so rapidly,
especially when you do hope,that it would last a bit longer.
But wait, what is it that you love?
Is it only the sense attached,
or the very person you imagine?
If you can't hold a person anymore,
you can smell the scent yet everywhere.
If you desperately miss somebody,
you would bring the face into the real.
If the pain inside seems killing you,
you kiss the image to heal the wound.
Not everyone can unveil the secret,
of being embraced by the transcendence,
of being sheltered in intimate presence,
because the death of their mind's eye,
or their weariness of lustfulness.
But don't pigeon-hole images as illusions,
since there's no illusion as real as person.
Don't ever insist on one's appearances,
as if you're able to control an existence.
These images of those you are so close,
are truer to life than your own body,
a living nearness than just one's face.
Now if you decide to move on in life,
don't hesitate to allow this presence,
even if you can't smell and hold it again,
since they no longer remain some flesh,
but unfeigned warmth you'll ever hope,
the lovely images that keep you alive.
