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
This way, you become mister Y.
You’re mister Y from
once from ‘conjugally’,
now from ‘concubinary’,
but you cannot be mister C from
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[show_avatar email=161 user_link=authorpage avatar_size=100]
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.