Borne out of time

Ovid Weeps for Me
When first I heard your distant cry,
It cut exceeding fine
And loosed my heart to rise to you;
But I would not let it go.
How true the premonition:
What’s given is ne’er regained.

You stooped down to find my gate;
I was faint to let you in.
I never thought one so high as you
Could bear the dust of me.
At first I trembled to lead you through
All the muck and clutter,
But you brought forth a guise
Of blind humility;
And in your quiet serenity
You corrupted me.

At your laughter I yearned to show
All my treasured places.
To your willing ear I told my sacred stories;
The words of my life were jewels to me.
I gave them all to you.

I thought that I could graft you in
The most fruitful bough
Of life’s beloved tree.
Now you cast aside forgotten
What once was dear to me.

If the gemstones of my soul
Are a passing souvenir,
Why did you come for them?
If naught to you,
Why did you take them away?
Not carnal stones,
But fragile intangible crystals
Of my imagined worth.

Is life always such adventure
In the high circles where you fly?
Can you be bored
With such endless flowers?
Your rainbow wake
Has disturbed my simple gray.
I will never be still again.

September / October 2003

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