Visions of the Erotically Sublime
When the youthful heart dies,
Our dreams separate from our soul,
We accept drudgery and regrets,
We no longer believe in love,
We think it is impossible to escape
Into the world of an exhilarating kiss.
And I’ve become a lonely vagabond,
Tramping my way through memories of desire,
Praying to goddesses in the darkness of night
To rekindle the romantic fire
Hidden in the ancient psyche
Before humanity became tamed
By duties and responsibilities
Stifling sensual adventure.
I’ll no longer subscribe to any idea
Suppressing the hope of exaltation,
I’ll no longer walk any grey concrete path
Forever avoiding verdant fields
Lush with blissful affections
And ripe fruit dripping with lust…
I’m only going to trust
The primitive man unburdened with beliefs,
Children playing joyously on summer streets,
Nymphs dancing beneath inebriating moonlight,
Singers inflamed with bowls of wine
And visions of the erotically sublime.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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