Look then, Beloved, with a gentler eye
And patience, heed the subtleties of more obvious markings;
For surely does the rose open upon its own accord
And a heart like a treasure given, is freely shared
When you’ve pulled open this riddle, dissembled this rose
Scented this universe-petals pinked with a succulence
Ripped & now scattered
How you know its taste in your fingertips
& there, curled at the edges of your eyes;
Marvel how you bungle yet,
Over a far flown mysterious deep
Silent & undefiled,
sleeping here at the hollow of your breast
That one you shall never own & never attain
Hovers just above
You, in your night’s bed of burning- a conquest
Eludes after all, mocking onward.
The Word finds you now lacking, and ever unworthy.
Like a monkey caged in the outer courts-Happy and swaggered dumb by a tossed bit of fruit
Profaning nothing but its own incognizance,
(an ignorance clasped so tightly in spongy proud fists)
Of the only thing truly sacred in its life.
The mystery goes on forever
Beyond your lusted chirps and shudders, the juice dripping
From you chin,
as so many will find you merely charming-
But this is all, my dear. This is all.
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