One strives for the sublime and hopes dearly
it is not only a dream or a mirage
perhaps the feelings stirred mean nothing
of what is real and what is not
a strong possibility one may say
especially considering the heart is fickle
in all things
yet does this mean that there is no solidity
on this rock on which i stand
the faint wistfulness i feel now
at the aroma of fresh-fallen rain
do i dream of the seaside for no purpose?
or is it true that the earth turns
in service
and that the stars sing in harmony
a truer song than i can yet fully understand
i tilt my head upwards and look and whisper praises
and shiver at the touch of autumn’s kiss
of course my dear one of course
now i know what true love is