Because Their Matter Is Not Consummate

“Perfection wrought of love and pain”

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson—lover of Arthur Hallam

In Memoriam A.H.H., Canto XXXIX • Line 11

“Love one another with a pure heart fervently.  See that ye love one another.”

“Already the words are forgotten.” ~ Tôenmei (Chinese poet)

He tries to sing of gold, important things,

Of heart’s hard-, carved-, and-faceted-with-light

Foundation gems, of courage made of wings

So all of these rise up as one in hurtled flight

Past interplanetary goals above

What Homer chants.  The song attempted falls,

An eagle with a heart attack.  The love

He sings of fails to fill heroic halls.

The words fall down, forgotten even while

They glisten near the throne.  Already they

Are dead from throat and cannot reach the aisle

Of Christ’s cathedral, so they cannot pray.

  They cannot dwell in spaces he would fill

    With paeans.  Notes and phrases flop and spill.

© Phillip Whidden