By coujeaux
Date: 2002 Sep 28
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[[2002.09.28.11.05.4060]]

Now It Can Be Said

Over the course of this life, many things seem just out of reach,
Temptations we grasp for are boundaries impossible to breach.
We shake our fist at the Fates for the cruelties of our wants,
Mourn needlessly in frustration about elusive prey in the hunts.
I take a different approach than most, in that I learned to relax,
Not worrying about possibilities until I considered all the facts.

Think Thoreau's quiet desperation; I half agree on what he viewed,
For the complaints of those dissatisfied are anything but subdued.
It seems we think God will capitulate if we bend His ear yet again,
But life offers no warranty on the wishes you've tried to trade in.
My conclusion is simple: we take our granted, strive for even more,
If it wasn't meant to be, appreciate what you have as never before.

Yet imagination overtakes even me: it has ever fueled my own desire,
And in my most private Heaven, there is one dream to which I aspire.
Parting is no sorrow for me, even as many women have come and gone,
None could ever compare to the angel my heart will forever dote upon.
The sweet little secret I hold in the event that it never comes true?
Now it can be said that I've longed for nothing more than loving you.