To Eve, My Love

Thupten Kelsang

I for one am astounded

(Flabbergasted is more like it...);

By the sheer intensity of thin prose,

Like a fiery red rose.

 

I know all poems do not rhyme,

I for one do not chime.

But it is you my love,

Who brings out of me.

 

Alas! for you are already taken,

My faith in mankind is little but shaken.

Forgive my words,

For they know not how;

To express my true raw emotions in your awe and mystique.

 

I shall nonetheless pen it down,

For I am but young and naive;

Nursing yet another heartache.

Not that it matters anyway,

For I have stumbled upon my ideal woman.

 

Had I the power to be,

I would imitate the bravado of Prometheus,

And steal the flame from the very clutches of Apollo himself:

But to prove myself.

Nonetheless it would not be enough,

My love.

 

For even if I would fashion a multitude of idols,

In your glory,

Like the genius stroke of Pygmalion;

It would be but lost in your aura,

For you are to me but Aphrodite herself.

 

A Woman personified:

Gentle yet fierce,

Cunning and caring,

Bold yet eloquent.

 

So, I ponder upon the query,

Why not all women be like you?

Why do Men have to be from Mars,

And Women from Venus?

Why the union of two souls is marred,

By worldly interventions?

 

Although I may not have you in this lifetime;

Yet I have realised the kind of women I desire.

For till now I have been but fooled,

Tempted by worldly desires;

And inherent male fallacies.

 

Only could I have a woman,

Who would be but fashioned like you

(Even remotely);

With your virtues and vices alike,

I would but cherish her company for all eternity;

Until my bones turn to dust.

 

Need I add, I am not a poet;

Nor an erudite scholar.

For this is but a feeble attempt to thank you,

For now I shall hold my head high,

And look over the horizon;

Hoping that someday I might,

Stumble upon you personified.