A Quest's Bequest


After tender moments are long past,
Memory must engrave on its soul
Inscriptions to unique joys that last
Till Time ceases its unending roll.

The Magi, their largesse presented
Rich symbols, adoration portrayed;
A pauper with nothing, consented
With his face, his sentiments conveyed.

Both the rich and the poor say it well,
To a love, their treasure's well bestowed.
Private, but persistent, she won't tell
Of passions, unless her conscience goad.

Rejoice in second choices, secure?
All hail to the champions of peace,
Underfoot, with banners of the pure!
Is danger there in the heart's release?

Give little and risk less...a heart's quest,
Stifled, impoverished, and untried,
Better, had it been laid down to rest,
Unfulfilled, a sad wasteland, inside.


--Don Juan de Feu

 

 

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