In this trigonometric design, you’re my arcsine

having an idiosyncratic angle of view, stealthily

pinpointed in that perfect unit circle

of sewed feelings. You force yourself to arrange triangularly

my sparkly vision arcs, and to trigger

my dream’s diameter,

but you must know that love

has always the same ratio pi. Like a pirate ‘s treasure, your

math of feelings is almost incompatible with

our reality, which keeps hope alive

in the philosophical number 2,

which is not a number, but a fundamental notion of a pair.

In despair, you make this number be a common shape

of love in self-having geometrical properties. ‘Tis a new

little hoop of ideas tangling in this triangle, when you search

for the Divine.

Our parallel lines of life are two tangents to this unit

circle that sends some secant vibrations. The idea of never

meeting is, however, infinite in nature. This secants

cannot scan this imperfect,

around world of feelings for two,

nor can this world keep my dream

alive. Your thinking becomes a mystery.

You are my mysterious lover

looking like an unknown number in self, and being a part of any

equation.

This way, you become mister Y.

You’re mister Y from

‘concupiscently’,

once from ‘conjugally’,

now from ‘concubinary’,

but you cannot be mister C from

‘careful’,

from ‘conscientious’,

and from ‘credible’.

Our love is getting old in these concentric circles,

We try to extrapolate it to

infinity. You may be my semi-infinity, but…..

Poem by Marieta Maglas

Copyright © Marieta Maglas

Marieta Maglas is on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/marieta.maglas

Disclaimer: The image used herein is taken from the Internet. Due  appreciation  and credit is acknowledged for the same.

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