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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 momuments 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.