Who Knows? Poem by Stan Rodriguez

Sublime's the metaphor
swinging from a pair of gossamer wings
flowing in and out of ecstasy—what can I say?

You want the truth—it's easier then swallowing
a sack of tennis balls out I the open
or trying to swim the seven seas—without a cup of water.

But who's counting anyway?

"In truth"
Love is the magic all around
yet, can't be conquered under fault pretense
it finds its own…

And at times breaks the human heart
leaving death and destruction in its place.

I've seen both—the grief and ecstasy
I've loved to heaven's door and
been lost, broken, and in pain within the gates of Hell.

But like the song goes
"regrets I've had a few, but then too few to mention."

I've take a day of love and serve a year of loneliness,
in servitude.