I May Have Been Mistaken

All the sages lie, of course, to us,
Their needy acolytes, and to
Themselves. We're living things.
As such, we are insatiable.
Desire never can be quenched.
The helices, all that we are,
Must feed and reproduce
Themselves, and this, my sweet,
Is why I've written all these dismal
Poems which describe the love
We cannot have. I cannot
Help but wish for more, but,
I suppose that I should also
Praise the love which is.
I've given you all that I am,
And you have done the same
For me, and, in those moments
When we meet, I'm happier
Than I have been in years, perhaps
In all my life, and your face,
Often dimmed by care, grows
Bright. I know you're happy, too.
Within those moments, all is
Right, and there is nothing left
To want, so I may have been
Wrong to say that all the sages lie.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 60 times
Written on 2015-10-03 at 13:53

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text