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Transcendental Sonnet #1462:
Illusion
The mating urge gives rise to confusion
Within the whirl of romantic fantasy
Which in turn gives rise to disillusion
As the human race chases its tail across
The stages of ages of love and loss
And it turns in the whirlwind whirling past me
From disillusion to dissolution
We dream of being known when we seem we are alone
The mating urge gives rise to this illusion night by day
The urge to merge the surge to purge the loneliness away
But having crashed and having been thrown free
Of the wreckage clear and better off to be
I conclude I am too confused for confusion
Now having already whirled my illusion
+Steven Curtis Lance
Copyright MMXI
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