A Reality, Asked To Bide, As Aspiration Poem by Maurice Harris

I fancy not, a respite for my long-embattled heart-
Though, same would remove need for my faith to impart
Encouragement that a reward awaits me, that I may ne'er measure;
Should I seek refuge from all which I treasure,
Causation would find the contrary rendered-
As, the hope it inspires would no longer be tendered;
Cower not shall I, from that which I most ardently admire,
E'en whence consummatedbut when I aspire:
This is the very reason why time seems to have ceased-
An inglorious reality is forced, whilst a beauteous one, is fleeced.

Naught may dispel an ardor so closely guarded;
No matter of time, nor of space,
May make less-nor surely, erase-
That which hath been so blessedly imparted!