Proportion

All is insignificant. I know. I know.
I've seen the stars, and read the measures
Of their distance. I have read the Buddha's
Words. Oh, what's the use? All is for
Naught, and I, a spark upon a speck,
Will flicker out unnoticed anywhere
Outside this tiny realm. And you, my
Dear, are, likewise, without meaning
To the universe. Nonetheless, I'll walk
You home, and hope that you'll invite
Me in, and I will call you after dinner,
Just to tell you how I have enjoyed
Myself when you are near, and I will
Wish you pleasant dreams. The things
I say are gusts of wind. As such, they're
Insignificant, but, trust me, Susan,
To me, you are not.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 19 times
Written on 2011-04-21 at 00:41

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