The first so parched I could weep
The second so deep I could drown
Whene'er I dare embark in each.
The first, mailed, stares out from her keep
Ne'er frail, ne'er weak, ne'er stripped is she,
Nay. Nor is she lush, nor teeming,
Nor verdant, nor dreaming to be.
To know her is to break upon
Stony walls cracked, dry, pitiless.
Your single cheer tear-smeared folly,
Anguish, ever thirsting distress.
The second's undefended shores
So bare, so rash, so little concealed
So little craft, bubblingly daft
All too often recklessly real.
To know this heart, then, is to plunge
Risking the self midst endless charms
Diving mystery fathoms deep
Bewitched, drowning, snared in her arms.
By each heart the hardy hero
Is changed utterly, forged anew.
This, the ordeal: Chancing love's font
Better the trickle or deluge?
© Jeff Stilwell 2012
The second so deep I could drown
Whene'er I dare embark in each.
The first, mailed, stares out from her keep
Ne'er frail, ne'er weak, ne'er stripped is she,
Nay. Nor is she lush, nor teeming,
Nor verdant, nor dreaming to be.
To know her is to break upon
Stony walls cracked, dry, pitiless.
Your single cheer tear-smeared folly,
Anguish, ever thirsting distress.
The second's undefended shores
So bare, so rash, so little concealed
So little craft, bubblingly daft
All too often recklessly real.
To know this heart, then, is to plunge
Risking the self midst endless charms
Diving mystery fathoms deep
Bewitched, drowning, snared in her arms.
By each heart the hardy hero
Is changed utterly, forged anew.
This, the ordeal: Chancing love's font
Better the trickle or deluge?
© Jeff Stilwell 2012
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