I have known more than enough
of broken hopes and callous care
to dully predict another tomorrow,
and yet still I lingering lay my head
on the same pillow each night
and anxious await the coming dawn.
I have felt these restless sinews
woven too impeccably tight,
brightly grasping lacquered boxes
and loosely bound leaves that hold
far more of tremblingly tormented
lives than I could ever comprehend.
There was a time when unsubtle I
would squat behind the ninth row
of jealously whispering players while
perusing the pages of Castiglione
like the most masochistic of voyeurs,
praying piteously for just one chance.
I could not have known back then
what I so feelingly fully ken now—
how glorious the embrace of love’s
true heart can be when weaned
of unnatural and unnecessary fears,
how immeasurably beautiful it is
to be sweetly adored
by one who is guided
by an unpretentious
and most honest heart.
Salt Lake City 18 June 2022