You are the symptom of lack of reason, of judgment.
Or it is possible that you are a symptom of circumstance.
You are the idea of a man – a man who may
Be unlike the men who constantly disappoint.
Therefore, I absolve you of this vile inheritance
Of contempt; you are pure until you defile yourself
With words which yield no fruitful sentiment
Or you fail to follow with action which fulfills their promises.
I doubt you will submit to such imprudence.
You may become aware of this desire I hold;
But, it may be too late for this weary traveler.
I will have tired of longing for longing’s sake.
And when the symptom of desire subsides,
The only things left will be the prospect of the future
And the memories of regret that shape it.
© 2012 Helena Malheur