“To What’s True”
To what’s true and right between
The lines, the hour, the day,
Each several notion’s thought, each urge to stay
The course, to stand aside or see a dream
Evaporate from want or waste in vast
Expanse and state, stations we know nothing of.
We’ll not last the night with all our loves.
We mirror only what within the glass is all that’s passed
Through wanderlust, and more. To this great end mark roughly
Seeing, feeling, drawing endless guile, strengths
And fires far beyond ourselves within the lengths,
The heights of what our presence seems to be. Enough.
Do we weep or shall we sigh for what
Was once a photograph or the contents of an empty teacup?