Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

<center>part one (lamentation)</center>
My lamentation over sunsets tamed
is nothing altogether sad, but mourns
that miracles of natural philos-
ophy domesticate the sunset wild
with cycles science holds enslaved— how poor,
when worlds of either-or leave wonders checked
by knowledge all dependable. O Sun
so far from alien control, how spun
upon yourself by quick synapses decked
in thoughts electric you are known. I more
than celebrate maturity; but Child,
recall imagination. Poor, the loss
of mystery; infinity adorns
a moment’s life by love creative framed.

<center>part two (response)</center>
The universe I know is not where love
makes sense—precisely not, because I know
true cosmic rules too well. My love deserves
more mystery of truth than mastery
of truths; my love reserves some marvel for
its joy that joy might marvelous find love.
I will to love you not where I believe
in rules to come, where morrow will relieve
today, where sure all futures fixed will move
apart from miracles. My love is for
a miracle— where possibility
of love beyond experience preserves
for love no definition apropos
of knowledge chaste, where awe makes sense of love.

.... the loss of wonder, or mystery.... Reminds me of time spent in the desert... I don't want to know too much about my place of "boundless"...

"My love deserves more mystery of truth than mastery of truths"....

exactly....