Madness

Since the intial sampling of
That condemning fruit
Or preceding that incident perhaps:
Chaos.

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A massive distance out -- a million
Miles or more -- the celestial lights are
Galloping at untold rates away from
Where they sat before. They possess not
The ability to be stable.
Unmoving.
Close to one another.

The animals -- they mate and just
As rapidly forget the face,
The creature, the passionate connection
Some recall, do not desert but
Is it love? No, it is
Instinct.

Tonight, a stormy night:
The wind whimpers
Cries like a lonely dog,
Pathetic. The tree scratches
Against the window:
Let me in!
But the both remain unsatisfied.

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The human species: alone
In love, the only creature
Capable of connection, deep
Joy, closeness, profound meaning
Born out of love and into love
Born out of beauty and into beauty
Order. Peace.

But.
Since the initial sampling of
That condemning fruit,
Not preceding that incident,
Chaos.

And now we, like
The galactic giants we
Sprint from our counterparts,
Those we might love
We learned to have a certain terror
Of staying in one place
It is unnatural,
Not the first state!

And now we whimper
Pathetic, not sympathetic, outside
A neighbour's door, but never
Go in or even knock on the door.
And now we mate only
To forget the next moment
Like an animal or we
Stay out of duty, not
Love, not for any
Greater reason.
These:
Not natural! Not the first state!

And I, no different from
The curse expounded above but
Believing in something more.
The desire, though hidden by fear --
You feel it too--
I want to recall how to stay.
To knock. To remember.
To love.
Be loved.