We are the Romeos, the Juliets,
The irresponsible, the quick, and kept
From wide and varied pitfalls and regrets
By wiser hands than ours. For we'd have leapt
O'erhastily into Love's promised land
(And still we leap, o'erhasty, to His lies).
We'd sacrifice and drown and burn our hand,
So reverent we'd be to Love. Demise
Would rush upon our fool's alliances.
Destruction would lose all its poetry.
Romantics true know not dalliances
For like true whores, ours is true harlotry.
Our vestal robes, like shackling vines o'ergrown,
Love's slaves we are and yet to Him unknown.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
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