It knows not any honor, duty or law-

since it is raw.

Intelligence it subdues

but insulars the blues.

Synonyms of bliss-

Its fruits.

Antonyms of agony-

its presence.

More heart than head-

it blurbs its bearings

but blurs all conscience.

Yet much sought,

by souls all rot-

for unmatched the moments it plots.

       ~Sruthi Sikhamani