A Lament - 2016 Poem by DM W

If we were to have all the wisdom of ages
Explained to us in detail; it would take too long.
All we know is the flash of lexicons in passing,
And the dying embers of Autumn's plaintive song.
The great presences that emerge to expand our
Collective consciousness, from generation to
Generation, are so rare, we can only skim
The surface of their profoundest significance.

If we could find warmest, holy sanctuary
In somebody else's arms we would not fear
The deadly spears of night. But the kind of deep
Communion we seek so long to embrace, seems
Impossible. As creatures of habit we tend
To objectify The mysterious other:
Whose ethereal essence cannot be captured.
Hence, the blue eyes of love are tainted with sorrow.