Beyond love,
Lies the whole Universe,
The Mystery of,
Incomprehensible,
Our lives,
Like grains of sand,
Individually, aside,
All understanding,
Answers hide
In the star's light,
That we see,
But cannot touch
Or understand,
The Whiteness of such,
Immensity.
Universal Love,
Are all elements united
In one cosmic plan,
In some Romantic fan
That our minuscule brains,
Cannot scan?
Are we tied together
By some invisible treasure
That we can feel,
But cannot understand?
Individual Love,
The one that hits the heart
And will not part,
The one that's like a dart,
By lightening conceived,
The one that hurts the most,
When not achieved.
Can these Loves,
Ever unite in Mystic flight?
In holy chant?
That would give them
The immortality,
they so deeply seek and want?
Beyond Love,
They would embrace,
The secret of all love
And of the human race,
Finally, face to face.
Our lives on earth. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There are two levels in your poem. One level is the that of human existence: what we know, what we do, what we hope for. On this level we experience love as an individual experience, and these add up to an immense number of experiences. But beyond what we can know is the rest of the universe, and we don't know if love is a force within it. B-U-T you wonder if what we know of love is just a part of a UNIVERSAL LOVE which might be IMMORTAL. You say we feel this is true but we have no certain knowledge. If this UNIVERSAL dimension of love exists, then WE ARE TIED TOGETHER BY SOME INVISIBLE TREASURE. You state this as a question because it transcends our minds. Your closing doesn't resolve the question. A Leap of Faith might for some, for others that may not be a possibility. One of the last arias in Handel's MESSIAH says, I COME TO TELL YOU A MYSTERY. Your poem is too wise to say more either for or against penetrating that Mystery which a medieval mystic called THE CLOUD OF UNKNOWING. This is a profound and searching poem, Sandra. It's your gift to us.