Two Hearts This World Have I Known
The first so parched I could weep
The second so deep I could drown
Whene'er I dare embark in each.
The first, mailed, stares out from her keep
Ne'er frail, ne'er weak, ne'er stripped is she,
Nay. Nor is she lush, nor teeming,
Nor verdant, nor dreaming to be.
All who would know her break 'pon her
Stony walls high, thick and pit'less.
Their sole succor tear-smeared folly
Despair and wounds' thirsting distress.
The second's undefended shores
So bare, so rash, so little concealed
So little craft, bubblingly daft
All too often recklessly real.
To know this heart, then, is to plunge
Risking the self midst endless charms
Wandr'ing lost, myst'ry fathoms deep
Bewitched, drowning, snared in her arms.
By each heart the hardy hero
Is changed utterly, forged anew.
This, the ordeal: Chancing love's font
Better the trickle or deluge?
Jeff
newclassicstheatre.org
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