axiomatic


A Fair Philosophy

I have tried, and surely failed to soar,
But while it's in my spirit to aspire -
Though my account becomes one mess the more -
I must, and though I stumble,and I tire,
The will shall be called forth just like before,
To call that foe - my failure - a liar!
Who cunningly conceals my greatest chances
With obstacles as great as my advances.


Especially so in love's unjust delight -
It's happiness - that bonus of the brain,
Is gone like any dream in any night!
And who can call it back to them again?
Far better that its fragrance lingers light -
For laughter, lust, and all just can't restrain
One love the more, until that loss of lustre
Which won't respond to dilligence or duster.




Poetry by John-Charles Cooke
Read 571 times
Written on 2008-04-21 at 23:33

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