The Lack Thereof - Poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
Amid the mystic fields of dreams
I wandered, and came on a grave.
Breathlessly still was all around
Yet breathin' with an easy heart;
And there beyond, in wooded grove,
Were visions, all so much the same,
That they became one. A girl drew near,
And on me gazed with wanderin' eye,
And would have passed, but that I called,
Clappin' my hands above my head,
‘My time is now! ' and I followed
After the beautiful spirit
And bade her stop and look at me.
And so I called her lovelier
Than any else, only because
She only then before me was.
And, while we stood and gazed, a change,
Diversely strange, was seen in her:
She became ever more and more
The one I loved before, ago;
Could this be true, could this angel,
Such that I could no longer doubt,
Be the same, who was now to sight
My muse, as lovely as last seen,
As outer darkness starts to fall,
Is this her or the lack therof.
And what of, the abandoned grave,
The girl now walks slowly towards
And blindly circles, in half-turns,
Now dances she round the tomb site;
And, as the light of the moon glows
Illuminatin' her movements
Of diviner motion, she said,
"Come, come and see, see what awaits.
‘That which could not be kept or held,
Seekin' reason, aspires to die,
And, unspeakably, profoundly
Unrequited desire is crowned! "
From this exaltation I stir
As my eyes look at the marker
And comprehend the epitaph
Here Lies Love and the Lack Thereof!
To the same old tune, but softer
The maiden sang, ‘What did you do,
Then, for love and the lack thereof
Of such an ineffectual flame
As ill consumes the sacrifice! '
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