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YET
ANOTHER LOVE POEM
Who
do you love the best
Me
or one of the other boys,
The
others who have been part of your life?
I
believe you love me for my poems,
And
the other guys because of their good looks.
Excuse
me! I am sure that I know
How
those former lovers write.
I
would wager, their compositions stink!
They
are schoolboys at their lessons.
Their
vocabulary weak and grammar amiss.
Their
voice never amounts to truth
For
they have not learned,
They
are not practiced in language of the heart.
A
girl like you would never fall,
Never
give herself over to some inconsequential chap,
Even
were his house rich in goods,
Or
if he had a ton of money in the bank.
Honestly,
I doubt that it would be worth
Any
man's while to court you, useless, I would say,
Unless
he had verse at his command.
You
will have poetry in your life, and soulful adventure.
You
will have love, above all else, love! No!
Not
artful, not postures of love, but absolute love,
All-out,
heedless, besotted, running a muck,
Head
over heels, love, as if, you were God-struck.
You
will have an ardency whose heart-beat mirrors
The
atomic steady of electrons about a nucleus,
An
affection which possesses an endurance
Beyond
any artifact of marble, any work of bronze,
And
puts to shame the pretense of those ancients,
The
builders of the pyramids of Egypt, or those others
Who
had disguised their vanity by erecting stone and rock
Into monuments of heights and circles,
What
sophistry they practiced,
As
if they staked a claim of victory over time!
The
love you will have, its heart has a color and brightness,
Same
as those beacons from the farthest reaches of space-time,
A
light by which all other lights are measured,
Yes,
an endurance which has its match in the starry images
Travelling
since just those few moments after Creation,
So
lovely, so lasting, though all else around it, dark and foreboding.
Too
bad, honey! Too bad for you!
You
must know, and would you, please,
Tell
the other suitors, please, think on it a bit,
Who
is the man, who may compare, or even place
A
reasonable second in the ultimate competition,
Who
but me might win the race for your heart?
Sorry!
But it's over, no choice,
It
is just the luck, the fate which has befallen you.
Its
story line, no earthly origin, not an everyday script,
The
author knows when the sparrow falls,
He
has count of the hairs upon your head.
He
has conceived the architecture of the heavens.
Understand,
accept, and willingly embrace Wisdom,
Let
me call it, Destiny, and proclaim,
You
have won the election.
A
bright new day floods the horizon.
Mercy
on whom mercy has has been granted, and
Compassion
on whom compassion has been bestowed,
Not
by any act or exercise of human volition.
But
by the power of heaven and its justice.
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