My love of her to raging fever turned,
I still longed to embrace her for raw frill,
I thought she’d cool or in self-fire get burned,
But had a will her own, venom evil;
Clueless I sought a doctor-twain to see—
Reason-Resolve, both of noble descent,
But too late, were of little remedy—
Fever, a mere signal, little use lent.
A storm when strikes what can signals at sea?
Yet, passion as much storm is as is power,
And all desires need never banal be,
Choose the lady, her temper and tenor,
Nothing great begets sans greed and passion,
Nor’s any depth too low for wild passion.
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Today’s world is nothing if not greed and grey
passion. Grey, for it is hard to say which one
is good, which is bad. All man can do is to try
and differentiate between different passions to
decide, cautiously to tread the ways of the
world. This poem is born of this dilemma.
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-Sonnets | 23.11.08 |

Aniruddha Pathak

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-lady-love-desire/