Pathos-Bathos
These tears work well their Machiavellian craft.
They blur my vision, clog my nostrils
like a vice, constrict my voice and finally
confound my countenance,
debauch my dignity,
I'll have no more of them!
This faithless wash is ended
with a firmer grasp upon a solid staff
of reason, my defense
when sentiment and tenderness assail
the fortress of my heart.
In all the years remaining
shall I then create a fortitude
contemptuous of fears, and no regret?
Will I ever understand again
the meaning of humanity.
the truth implicit in the arts?
And, will I never see the stars at noon,
or capture in my chest that rush
of aching splendor that a smiling child imparts?
And with my intellect, and on my cheek, I know.
~
Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2013
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