Treatise

Drew Hurley

may satisfy the logical mind,

but not the human soul.

The bird-song pasions

of the human breast

are but constrained within that phalanx

of meaning called words.

We strain the existant vocabulary

in the vain hope of penning

the essence of a feeling

within a corral of wooden phrases.

And know that the caged bird cannot sing.

.

.

Is life so melancholy, and for naught?

The purpled midnight emotions

of the human soul still course the channel of man;

and we still breathe and communicate

our fears and doubts, as best we can,

with a shrug, a sigh,

an eagled wave of the hand or a lustful leer.

Yet our song is bitter-sweet,

for, like the caged bird, we cannot fly.

.

.

Make life not dreary, sad or drab.

All men share one velveted secret longing:

to be remembered -- and with love.

Love alone is not enough;

the remembering gives life its haunting refrain.

Nor will remembering itself suffice,

except as a hollow oracle

to some long forgotten diety.

Think then of love remembered,

and mark it well!

For as a bird, we shall know the freedom of love

and the song we sing is of remembering.

.