Sophisticate mysteries of love, golden
little deceits breathed beautiful
in an effortless wind.
Move me through the lingering aromas
of the Pomegranate
Cottage. Infuse me by the
pretty starlit pools. I am at the edge of our
retreating from this world of bliss and lies.
The asylum of our youth keeps me. A
memory. A mid-
in the grove when our opulence
was still assumed. And now has age provided
me nothing except a
remorseful insight? Look out
over this creation. God’s only strength resides solely in
our ignorance. We are simply
and the damned.