(About a 3 minute read)
And Though We Love Imperfectly
It was passing strange how we met:
She handed me a cigarette,
Then apologized for her ignorance
Of our ways and manners
Before declaring herself a spy
From a constellation in the sky
And could I spend the time of day
Revealing all I could reveal
Leaving nothing significant still concealed
Of my species’ secrets:
“What made us different?”
“What was our uniqueness?”
Well, I thought her quite insane,
But I admired her cheerful countenance.
And her pink hair, brown skirt, and red socks
Made me sense she could not be bought,
So I thought her possibly true to herself, you see,
And vowed to humor her a bit
While the sun sat down from the sky
And the moon rose to sing to the stars.
Leaning to her ear I said, “It is our species noble curse
That we often destroy ourselves
For our minds run far before us,
But our wisdom lags far behind,
For our hands fashion weapons
That our good sense does not confine,
For our hopes create mirages
That our desires believe are real,
For our leaders practice falsehoods
And from the people steal.
After that we sat a while in silence,
Human and alien side by side.
“That my friend”, she said at last, “Leaves me tasting dust.
I believe you’ve spoken truly
But I wish you had not these things said,
For your words so cruelly reveal
The sadness that is your fate.
No other kind among the stars
Shares this fate of yours,
Nor carries a burden
So heavy and great.
Is there nothing your species can claim to possess
That redeems you from your excess?”
“We love”, I said, “bright and brief as fireflies
Flickering in the dusk,
Luminous as the moon
On a meadow path,
Passionately as a lightning storm
On a mountainside,
And sometimes as stubbornly as
A weed rising amidst concrete,
And though we love imperfectly,
We love quite as beautifully
As sunlight sparkling on the water,
For love has the power to affirm
Even our tragic lives,
And love has the power to gift
Us with the magic of rebirth.
So don’t think that you must mourn
Our tragic insanity
At least not until you have loved —
Loved as wild and free.”
With that she said, “I thank you friend,
Your species is both cursed and blessed.
If you someday grow to reach the stars,
You’ll find you’re not like all the rest.
For like your rising weed,
Something in you pokes through the cracks
And you, O human, have a greatness
That all the others lack.
Filed under: Art, Human Nature, life, Love, Lovers, Meaning, Poetry, Purpose, Quality of Life, Society, Spirituality