Love He Said

He whispered that he loved me into a hot, receptive ear. Though neither he, the boy from school nor I, were wise enough to know that there is something grand about so many things in life, but not about the unicum called love. All things are fragments of the universe, supreme intelligence reigns since the dawn of life, love is not part of this, it roams, free of the shackles of convention's rules and looks into our souls, then leaves until it finds a cloud of stars, devoid of order and of common symmetry, a lookalike, perhaps a milky way where particles do gather in the heat of blood and wrap their tentacles inside a beating heart, to gather and to hold where thoughts turn into vapours lost without significance or further use, Love stays to oversee the bonding of totality, subservient are the molecules as they unite, leaving all compromise behind becoming one, an absolute of light, of sound and seen by those who know inside the eyes. It's always in the eyes.