“I must admit to you Darling; I am everafraid;

That my age passes and that my Being has little’been made.

In the brightness and goldenshimmer of summer,

I thought I’d find my heart mimicking; finding; peaceful slumber.

Instead; I watch pigeons circle and slope…

                I hear all their wings unfurling, undying, unlying

Out through my window, out through with hope…

Into a nook and into the angelblue!

And with myself—only myself—I grappled and grew.


Darling; during that first lesson (a year or so ago),

I was taught of The Women, their billowing of Michelangelo,

While I dared epiphanic visions to pierce my dreams!

Yet none came, only the glint of dimming blueblack moonbeams…


Shackles thus(their death!)seemed to be the cure,

If I could only find them, know where they were…

But then a Thief told me to continue on!

–“Forget the chains! Focus on the swansong!”


…And so I did as the Thief begged,

Became untrue and entrenched myself in my silvergrey bed…

But Darling! It brought only an end deader-than-dead

Wherein I could climb the mountains Mother Nature had set

And still feel it all; feel the overwhelming dread…

The impossibility of myself, the Horrible Truth:

That I am miles from Truth, and that I’m not Authentic just yet.


See now That is the Issue! I have It now Dear!

That’s the Reason I’m only a Being-in-Here!

Forget Originality (“Be Authentic”) It’s all so clear.

That shall unburden the Being…

(My Ressentiment)

My Reason for my fleeing…


But there is no reply and the mountain range is everlong,

–“Where did it all go so wrong?”

I stare far unto its cracks and cries and coughs…

–“Where is the light? Where is the Moth?”


And soon a gift from our crumbling Universe;

                    (a dancing belle in yellowtan frocks…

                    spinning in her kneehigh socks…

                    telling my Being “come near”…

                    to listen “but never hear”…

                    to find “the betwixt of emotion and fear”).


But Darling, that was only a daydream!

And it vanished before it could truly be seen,

Though, I must admit, I felt it to my bone…

Read through its secrets, then left it alone.


The Path was palebrown and bushlined…

Alone I travelled, and there I’d find

A young Frenchman with couplets to tell,

He’d seen it all, even Illuminations and Hell.

For a moment he appeared as goodcompany

Spinning Myths and Yarns all the same

–“To see or not to see”, he asked me,

I replied; –“I only want to go back home; from where’st I came”.


A Second friend came along, an American, (so everlost)…

Who spoke of Undertakers and the Pure Heart’s cost…

He tried to create the world and mend it through rhyme,

Though even he knew he was wrong, for there’ll never be such a time…


A Third came near but never stopped their hurried pace

Someone later told me their name,

                    But I remember only their face…

Yet they’ve etched themselves into my heart as lace

                    (within that space, they have Infinite Fame).

Darling, I can’t say it’s much a shame for they’re all the same,

These rudimentary devils of Being and Thought

So much wiser than Us by so far… by a lot!

                    Us, who: (through horrors of machinery in this world of sold and bought)

                                                will be gone tomorrow(no matter if we’re Authentic or not).


So Darling (my necessary Darling), what am I to do?

When will Being come speak with neither negation nor adieu?

When will I know thisorthat or thatandthis?

When will it melt unto unfolding bliss?

It seems that old maxim was correct,

We seek answers but chose to neglect,

The questions that brought us anywhere (somewhere we’d never suspect).

They’re our Being, our guides, our reason to respect.


And watching again the harrowing sea of nightslide

Different birds (DovesAndAngels) come sit on the windowisde,

And in this single pause of all that is known

Of you(My Darling), I dream of: alone,alone,alone:


Once I knew your Spirit(its rhythm), I became reborn

While weddingwhite snow sprung through the cold…

But, soon after, I began to mourn…

For soon we’ll see some end as we touch ceremonious and old.


In younger years; along a beach we followed;

The dunes, the gulls, our laughter light(and our past lives so everhollowed)


–“Let’s stop and hear the harmonica;

From the worshiping Ancient man…

Who sings verse written from his own hand!”

And let’s not a-whisper and let’s not a-talk

Let’s watch this sunset and this lake and stop seeking any Thought.


All the air around you, the joy it conjures, the mysticism it awakens

The tranquility of your voice, the experiences you’ve taken

Yes, Darling, it seems I shouldn’t worry

With you by my side(with our lives intertwined)there’s no need to hurry.


And as this day ends no different than it started

I know there was no reason to be everafraid or brokenhearted:


For you are My Darling (and That is That) and that is so.

And our Being shall never vanish (shall never need to be reaped nor sown)

There’ll be no inch without our Love; (that endless,horizonless Sea)

For you have my Being; you have it forever and free.


My Darling(I know now the Truth); you are this world’s glory!

The only reason experiences became a story!

So (for the rest of our days) let’us make it mandatory

To kiss once during the sonorous dawn,

And once more again (once more evertender) so that we live forever on”


–“My Darling, let’s go! C’mon! C’mon! C’mon!”


Guy Arie Mizrahi

Guy Arie Mizrahi is a second-year student at the University of Toronto studying Philosophy and English.

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