By Echolocation |
Date: 2001 Aug 01
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I write poems dripping with love
Chocolate sauce oozing down vanilla ice cream
Warm and thick and rich
Compose verses drenched in slow-building passion
Lava seething its deliberate path down a hillside
Igniting everything it touches
But it's nothing more than an intellectual exercise
Leaving me untouched, neither hurt nor healed.
Viewing the performances from behind a sheet of glass
I watch my illusory creations in their tiny, graceful movements
So much happens in there as I -
Spectator and goddess of their finite universe -
Dispense hope and despair, laughter and tears,
Though taking none for myself
I merely observe, note the results.
Eventually the experiment ends in predictable fashion
(love conquers all, none but the brave deserve the fair, all the ants die, etc)
And I wash the glassware and put everything away
Until next time I feel the need to observe emotions again
But I wonder sometimes
Am I learning anything?
Anything at all?