The Secret of Poetry-Jon Anderson
The Secret of Poetry
by: Jon Anderson
When I was lonely, I thought of death.
When I thought of death I was lonely.
I suppose this error will continue.
I shall enter each gray morning.
Delighted by the frost, which is death,
& the trees that stand alone in mist.
When I met my wife I was lonely.
Our child in her body is lonely.
I suppose this error will go on & on.
Morning I kiss my wife’s cold lips,
Nights her body, dripping with mist.
This is the error that fascintes.
I suppose you are secretly lonely,
Thinking of death, thinking of love.
I’d like, please, to leave on your sill
Just one cold clower, whose beauty
Would leave you inconsolable all day.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.
While I still read everyone's LJ I come across, my blog has been moved to http://www.gunnerrpg.com/blog this entry can be found at http://www.gunnerrpg.com/blog/?p=1195