We loose much by hiding our dead,
Mesmerizing moments of grand deception.
We could gain great truth by studding them instead
And ready ourselves for the final reception.
We are drawn to the pleasing and fine,
They seed desire and promise all that is not.
Whiff of wind, sons of dust and slaves to time,
We perfume decay and surrender to a promise forgot.
Who gives birth to those dreams unfulfilled?
Whence the call for a companion?
Were we made to lay fields untilled?
Ships sinking, waiting to be abandoned?
So we seek a face that is not our own,
And yearn to ride on the communal sea,
White crests of approval on the journey home.
As infinite love only comes from someone other than me.