Both robbed of air, we both lie in one ground
Both whom one fire had burnt, one water drowned.
-John Donne
When passion makes a perfect man a Fool
He finds that earthly love, most tragically,
Will not withstand the force that gives him fuel.
Rhapsodic troubadours, quite magically,
Are known to disappear beneath the sea:
The only realm one sups ambrosially.
The world imagines less with its decree
That things should be "like this" or "that" -- "or else!" --
To this the purest love cannot agree.
A knowing poet finds, with weakened pulse,
That he prefers the Hellespont to ground:
A place where he can dream with free impulse.
And so we find the surest lovers drowned,
For love worth having never can be bound.
Adding your comment:
Your "Rhapsody in Blue" herein is a marvelous example of your fortitude and elegant view of the world, Julien. It is rarely a kind place for such creative souls to dwell in, I know. We would sometimes speak of this, especially when you would threaten to stop your writing. How glad I am that these fine pieces remain, where this often cruel world can see the beauty that was within you, a knowing poet. You were such a fine friend to so many, you know. We think of you fondly and I, for one, always will. And again, what a pleasure to find a remnant of our "lively" exchange upon this page. 
As always, you impress, dear Scribe. I was greatly honored by your note & pleased you'd recalled our "lively conversation". You inspire me, you know. 
