What love is to passion, and beauty to allure?
Is the quest of obsession, with that mortal sin?
Which makes us yearn, for hungers galore
Not the beauty of love, beyond that skin!

For some, heart’s chalice, still brims and spills
With the purest of cares, minus animal chores
Is this love at all, with no frills, no thrills?
Two souls when talk, behind closed doors!

Your thought, your touch, your smell et al
Never riots my heart, to consummate, this tie
“What’s love sans sex, some pretense of morale?”
“But, what’s sex sans love, an immoral lie!”

Yet, it grows and blooms, on souls’ lush soil
Love’s vine, weathers thru, all passion’s treasons
Is sex, worth, hearts’ inertia, souls’ turmoil?
Love knows how to blossom, WITHOUT any reasons!

© 2016 Vikas Chandra