the meaning of a collection and how to find the Question to the answer..

 As I get closer to defining this new body of work, I sat down,
 trading my paintbrush for a pen and wrote this:
Quarry of the Shrine and Qualms of Love
For what is love
But bitter sweet
That tastes at first so divine
As to transport to heaven
And transcend all knowing
Of anything in past
deemed so sweet (and kind)

For what is love
but a faded fate
That loves twinkle
Time and again
Would shine so brightly
For it be the clouds
baring gifts so sporadic
and obligatory to all
but only to dull the flame
Of a love once had
And now
barely enough
To see thy love's face
Upon the waning light shed
Between the shadows

For what is love
but tales on high
After all she is fed
Mere morsels thought to be
what she craved
Yet she starved,
for evermore
Be consumed
No flame ignited!
Only now
Merely assumed!

And what is love
But obligation (yes I dare say again)
I ought to be and do
On only such
Announced day
For it must have been a woman
from whom were born
such days as holidays
Just enough to let him
Save face

In what is love
but a vacuous shell
Now decomposed
no tenants remain
Of a home once lived
Just a stone cold cave
That echoes of longing
An ocean
Now miraged
With every seaward wave
Crashing upon a pause
A pause

Oh what is love
This pause still held
With abated breath
Don't waste your hands
That tick-tock forward
With every wandering glance
Despite turned backward
Repeat again and again
No relenting
No daylight savings saved

Oh what is love
But a late night dreary
Held captive at every vibration
Oh how I can see this clearly

Oh what is love but
Hands banging on a door
That never opens
Besides my ankles
Are bound and shackled
to the floor

Oh what is love
Well just ask his closest friends
Or assistant, or nanny
Or girl next door
No it is worse than all
These scenarios combined
For it is something of a concubine

Oh what is love
But replacements time
That approaches unaware
and denials knife
That digs right to the heart's shelter
Rips through flesh, meat
Sliding past the cage
until it pierces
the lover's beating jewel

For what is love
but the deepest way of betrayal
No matter the journey or duration
Unto this grave
Then after the ashes burn
and mending leaves but scars
That the aches remind

Yet with time
One takes the leap
And unto loves name
Only to discover
Once again
I am a slave
For what ?
is love.

    WOW… back to painting?