- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Lament of the Wandering Eye
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Lament of the Wandering Eye
For what am I searching?
Because I see in passing all the beauty and wonder of the others and I am curious.
Because I am so pleased, and so satisfied, yet I continue to long and to dream.
Because I have all for which could be asked and more, yet I continue to imagine.
For what am I searching?
Because I know great pleasure, created in forgiveness and understanding.
Because I know great pain, caused by a wandering eye and a callous heart.
Because I know great wonder, at the depth of emotion and the attachment borne of love.
For what am I searching?
Because I find only truth in your eyes, and only love, and only want for me.
Because I find only lust in theirs, and only impulse, and only desire.
Because I reflect both those things to you and to they and I am curious.
What will I find?
Because I fear more trauma, and more pain, and more hurt.
Because I fear destroying something so precious for something so transient.
Because I fear being left in the cold, by you who loved me, and by they who want me.
What have I lost?
In my endless searching, in my wanderings, and in my travels,
As I have gone forth and spread my name, and spread my energy,
As I have spoken many words yet made no promises, suggested but not delivered,
To all but you, you who loved me, and you who love me still.
Is this the greater crime?
To wonder, and to imagine, and to dream, and to remember?
To long, and to desire, and to lust, and to reflect?
To be pleased by it, to be satisfied with it, to wish it played out diff'rently,
To think not of you, you who loved me, and you who love me still.
Or is this the lesser crime?
To still be restrained, to still be withheld, and to still be faithful?
To still be resolved, to still be satisfied, and to still be committed?
To wonder, but only wonder, and never step outside the boundary,
To always think of you, you who loved me, and you who love me still.
I am searching for nothing, and I will it certainly find,
For that which I cannot speak, can never be mine,
And hopefully you this letter are never to find,
For it is torn from a terrored and much confused mind.
But what I have before me, I have only by your will,
You who have loved me, and you who love me still.
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