As All Time Passes By

27 July 2024

Love is a reason to suffer,
but one quickly finds that if one
disregards all the evidence, soon
the morass of unanswerable questioning
lingers like the stench of a swamp
with no egress. Still, without love
one finds nothing but thought
and its herds of passion, beleaguered
by hope without hope that some thought
could once matter and make out of men
something good. But no matter. Love still
is our greatest achievement, if known
in its truth as the glue that makes
coherence possible, here where men lie,
where men fight, when men live as all time
passes by.