Pure motives don’t exist.
You’re a handful and a mouthful.
Assuaging your ambivalence
demands a sea change
to which forces far beyond
the ones you think you rule
can catalytically exert themselves
to fool you into thinking you are fine.
And yet sometimes
the thing created can be kind –
indulgently affectionately glad
through gain and lack to be you:
voluptuously mad-in-love to see
you seem to want to live.
At these times all the whispers
and penumbrae in you
dance and open up and give.
They’re full of tender sighs.
Look at your reflection:you will see this in your eyes.
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