Third Instinct

In search of faith,
This tired old atheist
Has lost the instinct for preservation.

I have learned
There is no stability
In the laws of physics.

Our converging hallucinations
Will not have us remembered
As martyrs and saints.

We will be remembered,
But only as fools in love.

That one thing that,
On the face of it,
Seems mysterious
and stands in need of explaining.

The fragments of you can’t forgive,
But won’t remain once we are gone.

Reviews

[Eilis]

Love is one of the things whose meaning goes beyond the biological and into the mystical indeed. We can ascertain the importance of loving others but not what it does to us. How it can blind us and obliterate us, make us ridiculous to ourselves or slaves to things we cannot comprehend. But it can also give us strength and help us forget ourselves sometimes. Fill the hole in the heart that accompanies loneliness.

Your poem reminds us that reason and rational thinking can only take us so far. And often when we stray toward love we find nothing but incredible pain. Something like Icarus stretching towards the sun. Love your poems.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Just swimming in a pool of fools at the end.
And there is no lifeguard or angel to watch over us when all is done.
A solemn thought that there is nothing really after this life leaves our bodies.
The mind dies along with it...and neither is remembered...
they only write songs about fools in love....Ricky Nelson " Poor little Fool"---
words on a vinyl record, and words on a gravestone.
j.