Lovers & stones

Lovers are made in
heavens.
I made them in my poems,
sometimes in rhymes and
rhythms, and sometimes
as illogically as stones
stand in the way of the river
and break its
flow, and yet create
the sweetest musical notes
of the wilds.
Such is the state of the
soul in love that
unless tormented and
battered and bruised,
the joy of the
orgy of love is never complete,
as life flows like the river,
in love with the stones
in the mountains, or
without them in the quiet
planes, where it surrenders
to the ocean,
just as the lovers do
to each other, every time
love knocks at their doors.