Some wishes unfulfilled
whichever way I look you are there.
I find you
in the careless night of Van Gogh,
in the poise of Mozart's Adagio.
In my books, I find you most
in the austerity of Aurelius.
Wish you were mine
in Marvell's chiseled lust.
No, for you are noumenal,
like the wisdom of Kant.
On most nights,
you do linger in my mind
like a Faustian dream,
only to wither away in a syllogism -
for my life have I not examined.
No, I don't blame you.
I'll store it all,
stash it away like Beethoven's letter
to his immortal love.
And like a gift procured, sans delivered,
when I'm no more,
will posterity judge my ardour
and its sordid denial.
unexamined, dangerous and laid bare.
The Starry Night -- Vincent van Gogh