Oh
our fairest glory—as one for beauty, to enter the parish; for this is beauty,
the merciless lights, to tiptoe insanity. Oh to walk graves, asearch for
salvation, even a woman’s gaze. I was crazed, my life, as death to cheer
existence, for we must meet; and God came, to buffer the madness, as enlove as
Mary Magdalene. I heard a voice, to usher a response, quite involuntarily; to
see you standing—in more than cloth, as incandescent as inner thoughts. We
chuckled this laugh, as fried as grease, as baked as islands. I died the smile,
as crying inside, for we drift like waves. It’s an old movie, filled with
gesticulations, something of a rush; to hold your arm, as pressure dangles—from
cliff and mind; and was it us, brimming like nerds, enlove with a kiss?
Assuredly for us, the tides are broken, to break in mid thrust. Oh to see it,
to feed a family, afraid of father. I cry and laugh, a bit maniacal, at
distance from a psych; where love is gray, the love of a peasant, standing at
attention; but more to arts, to puzzle magicians, a woman of tan dreams. We sip
in private, mulling over documents, afraid to confess: the deep movement; that
inner ache; that need to feel this stranger. Oh the passion, to love in
spite—of hellish outcomes; for this is life, the grid filthy, the graph
haywire; and God came, to buffer the madness, as enlove as St. Mary. I tried
for goodness, to lose for sanity, to station in such battles; for love is
patience, to deal with humans, at odds with instincts. Oh for friends, to know
for love, abandoned to doing what’s right: a night of hell; a world of grief;
the nature of our ancestors; and oh for courting, to fall that moment, to wake
in total distrust. It mustn’t exist, this vast chasm, to die the love.
