We are detached hearts that
Flutter in the breeze.
One appeases, another pleases.
Sacrosanctity sought by both in wrinkled
Cloaks of naïveté and knowledge.
Pummeling, seeking more of both:
Intensity of love and hope.
And we impoverished mortals that
We are, no longer quote the raven
“Nevermore.” But furrow for sustenance in
Deeper realms where only the impenetrable
What joy is found is so translucent, always a
Conduit of confusion. The only
Answers do evaporate into a kingdom of
We wish we had control of all but slowly
Realize for the door of cruelest mortality,
Acceptance is the sole key to any kind of