Alex Walsh

The Victims of Biology

 

The victims of a cruel biology,

We crave a fiery, passionate affair;

They call it love, but it will never be

As absolute, as pure and true, as fair,

As that which binds a mother to her child,

Or that which ties a worshiper to God,

For lust, though just as powerful as wild,

Seems to me a poorly built façade

From which no virtue ever could arise.

But then I think of happily married lovers

And gaze upon romance with different eyes,

For lust is not the force by which they’re governed—

Though they began as flaming sweethearts, too,

Their passion blossomed into something true.