© by Christine Fischer
There was no love when we were apes.
Or was there, who could estimate?
Is it born through contemplation
or vanishing in twists of ratio?
Projected into dreams´ perfection
it´s shrinking in the dead reflection.
The more I search the less I find
though it´s everywhere proclaimed.
A word, a trade, a fake romance,
“love” may lose significance.
Still love would have a correlate,
that´s hard for me to catch by word.
All theories just won´t enlight,
more likely they obliterate!
Literate, but vain debate
on a hazy kiss of fate.