Lack of You and Me

I wish to cry this disconnect, the lack of you and me,
The weariness of loneliness, and guilt of this salt sea.
And as I walk so sluggishly, aware of Beauty's draw,
I wonder at my own eyesight, and women with their claw.
I gawk, I stare, I drink it in with eyes of tears unshed.
The dryness of my emptiness is dust when I am bled.
I know not even who they are, nor would I want to know,
But still in this there is a pain, a hole that still does grow.
I lack the thing they do not own, and praise what they can't hold,
And still we search most desperately for Beauty as if gold.
What secret now does Wisdom keep? With her what can be found?
Beauty is a passing thing, but Wisdom stays around.
What part of You is in her breast? Where are You in her face?
What can I yet learn of You in lips, her hair, her grace?
I close my eyes, yet open them. I know not what to do.
In her, I see perfection. In her, I'm glimpsing You.
But in all this I am a man, and so I do her wrong.
The universe was made like her: with words and more: a song.
In Heaven we don't marry, and this may be because
Here on earth is envy, but there nobody does.
What we can do imperfectly with one, a single bride,
Is there redone eternally with God there by our side.

No comments: