To J.


I believe in you.
You bare the wills of all music and demise in your voice
You’re the joy of every dismal muse
The very resonance of a colored melody, torn out from a thousand heartstrings
The impossible, but darling thing for madness and nature to use

And I too use your patience, to reeth notes of certain bliss
As the soul of each half-concerned lover, may use your eyes as stars
And perhaps, I too am used, beyond us both and ballad amorous
Just to give, completely, to all that’s blessed, in our single shared and secret glance.

I believe in you, though I wish you dear,
Not to tear too deeply between
Quiet little eidolons that bare, or the things we’d both aught fear
Less I grieve to wake from that, losing you, and that dream.


© W. Louis Tansse