You and me, Mr. Spock
where do we fit?
A sharp eared peg
into the nearly deaf hole,
or
do you hear too well?
Tell me,
my far seeing friend,
is your world empty as mine,
on too-bright days
when all eyes shine
or
is it full
of equations, cosines, graphs and logic,
cold as a vault
to freeze out the thoughts
of those who would intrude.
never knowing the pain of reaching out,
of reaching in,
without being reached.
Half the time,
Half the soul
of a man.
who cannot grant himself
only once
only one
even half a secret
must be shared!
first written in 1969
I noticed that Mr. Spock is now writing poetry. He has ten poems on this website so far. Oh, I love your poem, by the way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I noticed that Mr. Spock is now writing poetry. He has ten poems on this website so far. Oh, I love your poem, by the way.