Prudence, Hope And Love Poem by Edmund Wong

As though Descartes' divide is not enough,
A duel between mind's con advocates,
Stemmed from the selfsame root, o'er Love's beloved-
One, Prudence, estimates and calculates,
Concluding, the stakes too high, yield too low,
The tenuous prospect of Love's project;
The other, Hope, by Love stands staunchly so,
In her name Love's object should not reject,
Pledging, should Love's nest nurse with enough strength;
Dreaming days after sleepless nights contending,
Each stands own ground, but of coterminous length-
Lingers on end, in sight of blind ending.
As such the mind is vouchsafed no due rest,
What with the civil war lacerating
Its own flesh, each side claiming their cause best,
Which oft taints into sour reprobating.
Wherefore the feud took place they seem forget,
Turned to Love, who hath ne'er been consulted,
Nor they the substance of her sight inspect;
And wonder why naught can be resulted.
'Tis enough, says Love, for me stop speaking,
My friends, and come together uniting,
As even, with all your virtues combined,
Without wings can be touched the most sublimed.