A FAR OFF THOUGHT

As the train pulled away the man watched

For miles, and miles, and miles,
As his wife went into a withering image of white and of grey.

“I’m beginning to think,” said that man,

“That the greatest problem of humanity is

Distance--from family, from lovers, from God.”

For friends aren’t to be apart in holes,

But to be a part in a whole--puzzle formed from piece by piece,

Peace that Separate does not know,

No, not alone but welded and melded and held alone,

That part of the whole.

And “I’ve been told too, that two will come together,

Whether the weather of that week lends them the time,

Or the dime to make the flight on the wings of weak, fragile night,”

The man cried nigh on a thousand petals of overused trite. 

“Deep in the soul’s restart, won’t we always hold with

What we’ve been told, that the heart has it’s home

Of which reasons do not know?

And in dire haste, we lie in the these lies wondering,

Why our sole question from heaven and earth

Is met with a ladder of rungs, shaking our mirth?

“All my life I’ve heard: choose Him or choose her!

So I’ve gone with the latter and been lost as

A part of that hole.

“I’ve never been one to crunch the numbers,

Or count my steps and watch the compass rose,

As I drop with grave thoughts my life in a haze

Whilst her face fades into withering white and grey.”

Distraught we trot with this thought, that

‘What’s mine isn’t ivory and gold, not to stay nor to hold,’

When this definition is deaf in notion of the fact

That of great seas we’ll see that with clouds

We won’t part but we’ll hold, that

We are part of that whole.