BEWARE, True Love Audience, Should this book pleasure you, beware! Know that an idolater has made it. Although once he had sought to subjoin his words To holy theme, The good news that earth and spirit are one, He has failed and remains unredeemed. From the secrets of his heart and mind He took to paper and wrote, His energy was terrific, some thought That he had made a bargain. He had exchanged his vainglory for damnation. Whatever the rumors, the devil in the mix or not, Today he no longer needs consign his lyric To cardboard boxes filed with manila folders. He had feared that his poetry would end in cheap Fold-over glossy volume with staples for a binding. No more those coffee-house recitations, Where three-mintue-or-less time restrictions Hurt any real chance to explain his profanity. Worse yet, how embarrassed he remains to this day, At the times when he had to stand before an audience In a fast-food joint that hungered for business. He hated the noise of the kitchen and table service. No, now he couples his ambition to a world-wide, Electronic conveyance and he reads aloud, Uploads how great the extent of his sinful adoration. His blasphemy rests secure in the eternity of cyberspace. And hereby he does solemnly swear That every single line of verse, and all else he calls his own, His life, too, even if it means his extinction, Everything, all of it, he dedicates to graven image; He worships a finite woman, a mortal, A girl made of flesh and bone. For her, it was all for her, for her alone, He conserved his health and appearance, He tempted fame and fortune, And since the days of youth, When he had marched in line, the bishop’s Confirmation, No sacrament meant more to him than a day with her. And he waited; He waited as no else could have waited, No one in this world would have waited for her, For anyone, as he waited for her, his patience, Unparalleled, he had not despaired. Believe me; believe, viewers, though now The axiom rings worn and shallow, he exemplified How within the human breast – hope springs eternal. Oh dreamy picture of love, That all force of history might conspire, Act to exact his design, no, no, not reckless, But true, true love, he built for the future, Knew it was right, As surely as the clock measured the hours, Certain, she would return to his arms. He waited for her, And with every, single bit of his physical self, His arms, his eyes, his lips, all the flesh of his being, He waited for her as no one else might have waited! Let me drop the pretense, This whole business of third person: As deer crave for running waters, So I crave, so I crave, so I crave for you, As a mother wish for an absent daughter, So I wish, so I wish, so I wish for you, As father long for return of prodigal son, So I long, so I long, so I long for you, As a pastor ache for a member lost to church’s flock, So I ache, so I ache, so I ache for you. youtube/watch?v=LoTa-Y0jjEc
Posted on: Sun, 07 Jul 2013 05:33:19 +0000
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