If Only You Can Ever See

Naught whatso common you have with me? A great deal, me love, if you so see. What we both, as many, know as I, In fair faith oft called no more than i, In truth be square root of minus one, Which, shorn of arithmetic passion, To me an unreal grey thought is, An idea borrowed smart on long lease! We both, comes when our time To go, in state sublime, Decomposed mortal flesh, To be a pile of ash, Or be one with grave dust, With all—raw feelings, passion and lust, In time sub-atomic nought at all— What once ‘nothing common’ ye did call! And sooner comes when a moment nigh, The mind does when with memories die, Me and mine remaining though as ere, The subtle, barest of causal bare, Remains the radiant, all aware, And rarest if you may of the rare! There thou art me love the same as me, But if in hope ye can that way see. ______________________________________________ - Musings | 02.04.14 |