Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Mert Atakan on Unsplash

Why is it
That all genuine,
Enlightened glimpses
Into Beauty
Must inevitably strike
A vibrant note
Of melancholy?
Does Beauty hold
A deepest-buried memory
Of afore-life?
My pinings are directed
Toward a world beyond my own
… And yet so close at hand.
Perhaps that dying note
Of sweetened sorrow
Longs to tell me
That for now, my thoughts
Must scream in this mad yearning
And can only echo back . . .

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