LOVE NOT LIVED

When I wrote this poem, I was at a point where dejection with self was just about to sweep me down the dungeons of despair. I took a careful look at my solitary existence and decided that all was not after all lost. I was craving love, a woman's tender love, so much that I found it almost unbearable to hold the physical ache in my heart. After interminably long hours of pensive reflections, a warm feeling ruptured in my soul. I thought I could love a woman in my imagination.

It was then that I got out of bed and went outside. The sky was luminously lit by beautiful stars and there was a cool breeze wafting in from the lake. I sat down gazing at the beautiful vault of the sky, and then the words of this poems began taking shape in my mind. It was about 1.00 AM. Wrote this poem to that imaginary woman I would have loved to have. The woman of my dreams. Little did I know that some day this poem would find its real owner. I have found the woman who came to me in this poetic dream, and this poem is one of a series that will be dedicated to Louis Abala Jabernyiri.I have found true love in her, even if just for a spell.

LOVE NOT LIVED
Sweet nectar upon my tongue,
Would not be as delicious as,
The caress of your succulent lips upon mine.
Your soft, and warm looks,
Are a valuable treasure,
In the deepest chambers of my heart:
To be cherished - every breathing moment of my life

N ought... But the universe dissolve,
Will anything steer my destiny,
To the nether world of Bliss.
But your sweet love;
Perchance, the only strength of my will -
Which now stands tossed about,
By the fickle wind of chance. AND FORTUNE

But knows I, Gentle maiden of my dreams,
That none sane can conjure,
The self-same wisdom of love.
`Tis unfathomable...
Thus my heart despairs,
Whenever love like a thief,
Steals into my soul

For no one;
But every man and woman,
Can cleverly choose
AT WHOSE FEET TO LAY DEVOTION.
So, abide your time;
My gentle love.
My beauteous Queen,
Seek not beatitude In fickle fortune.
But repose your dreams,
Your peace of mind In that which fate;
Has placed in store yonder,
Hidden from sight
But visible to the unseeing Eyes of the heart

For our hearts,
in desperation
Yearn after each other,
But are locked apart in mortal fight for happiness,
By the insatiable need for possession,
Possessions that sooner decay;
Even as our hearts perpetually,
Beat a solemn song of tenderness,
Of passions,
And of love not lived.