from Heart of Love

It was not merely our frenzied excitement
(though certainly it was no less than that)
to have found Youth
in the cradle of our days
evergreen, being near conception twice.
As in the midmost years of man
desire's heartwood to increase
put out its carnal leaf as due,
for we did not know (there was none to tell us)
that our infancy was hoar,
blushed the medlar brushed with dew,
while yet one grew
not here
the thirty year old eternity
young as God, full of vitality,
prolific in the bud.
What was the wellspring of our innocence
from the ancestors unfurling,
a rose? Paleolithic, scientific
fed our circling path, layered
in time's dusking soil.

How sudden glanced the dawn
between the corners of our mind
flushed hard against the secret soil
fertile, not in our members!
Where all our haloed expectations ran
there, and as the voice of rushing streams
communion called against the roar
of time's embankment and the shore.
Eternity spun on the wrist
where hours, and the ageless kissed.

Now the helpless retrospect
innocence sans innocence
retrograde the aspect of our sight,
not merely hist's dark cliffs,
but farther, see farther,
illumined beyond all time,
Heart of Love.
We must wend the unwelcome way,
the subterranean incline secluded,
the paths unknown;
here, now, between the crucifix and crib.
Beyond the satire of the clock -
not the inquiry dumbed by machines,
swollen by sense -
beyond this wildered dark
the Heart of Love our pilgrimage, our joy.

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