To what height are we really meant to climb to?
To have an oversight of how it really should be worked?
To what depth must we dig to stumble upon its real treasures?
How far and wide must we sojourn to be caught in the webs of its mechanisms?
To what extent do you really exist?
To what degree must we yearn to have you in your purest form?
How must our minds be clothed and in what fabrics?
When are we right to seek you?
At what age are we ripe for your thrills and tickles?
To what would we owe your visit and departure?
In what dialects are you most potent?
To what ends am I allowed to express you?
On whose order do I make you unconditional?
In what measures do I safely dish you out?
Dish you out, in a serving that does not make the brain cripple nor the mind coward?
Of what grounds do I verify your verisimilitude?
From whom should I really expect you in all purity and no-strings-attached-ity?
How would your bearer be clad?
What rhythm would that heart reek of?
How deeply rooted should I expect you to be?
In Kirk Franklin’s lyrics, my heart echoes
LOVE, a word that comes and goes.
But few people really know what it means to really love somebody.
Love, though the tears may fade away. I’m so glad your love will stay
Cause I love you and you show me, Jesus, what it really means to love.
#Random.Musings.of.a.GeniusMined.
© Kayode Kolade. GeniusMined2012. A RareMusing Works!
www.kkolade.blogspot.com @kkolade
