Love’s Labors Lost

A sobering realization
to hear “enough” from my own lips
once so desirous to devour
a guilty swallow of enchantment
you so easily weave:
intricate and vast
— beyond what I can see —
interconnected waves, ringing, ringing,
washing over, flooding me.

To have you see me
turn my gaze from your majesty:
I can't bear to witness it.

Then, to live on remembering
I could not contain your beauty,
could not contain,
for an instant in my memory,
the mellifluous image you constantly
 alight upon the world:

my sorrow my mirror reflects darkly.

My belly is full of beauty:
full, only with a meager portion
 of your infinity.

Have I done anything?