A Lament - 2016

If we were to have all the wisdom of ages Explained to us in detail; it would take too long. All we know is the flash of lexicons in passing, And the dying embers of Autumn's plaintive song. The great presences that emerge to expand our Collective consciousness, from generation to Generation, are so rare, we can only skim The surface of their profoundest significance. If we could find warmest, holy sanctuary In somebody else's arms we would not fear The deadly spears of night. But the kind of deep Communion we seek so long to embrace, seems Impossible. As creatures of habit we tend To objectify The mysterious other: Whose ethereal essence cannot be captured. Hence, the blue eyes of love are tainted with sorrow.