Men eyes heave on woman as waves, on the shore.
Each wave of men has got a crush on her.
Waves in succession rise and fall ashore,
Each flash yielding innumerable droplets,
That have very much bearing on the shore.
Do they do without a purpose?
Do they do without any pleasure?
Is not the pleasure itself a purpose?
Acts of love are an on-going pleasure.
It purrs the senses, thanks to dopamine.
It enlivens the body, thanks to Endorphin
and Enkaphalins.
Loving is like breathing, with the end not in
view.
30.12.2002
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