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Beauty is Disappearing From Our LIves

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  • Beauty is Disappearing From Our LIves

    There, one day at the bar,
    Bob Dylan leaning patient
    over the pool table or sharing
    a cigarette from what could have been
    the last pack he ever owned.
    You think, desperately,
    in collage, in rewind, playback,
    how you could have made an impact--
    but you don't know.
    No one knows.
    And the lonely walk silent
    within themselves, and they will.
    In goodbyes or not, in departures
    willing, knowing or not,
    there's not a crystal ball
    big enough in this bleeding world.
    No one knows.
    Yet how you yearn to understand
    what holds a man--each
    specific man--to this earth,
    what makes the gentle beauty depart,
    too much with us. Only now,
    only a taste, of the welling
    over of it. And there is
    nothing for it.
    For only the dead can know.
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