Innumerate, unwise, we fall in love.

Enumerating   all the ways of love
[Impossible, uncountable  they be]
Took too many years of toil, not fun.

And yet, demand for figures carries on
As statistics while surreal are never free
Innumerate, unwise, we fall in love.

And we are not content with just someone
We want the thrill and madness or we flee
We ‘ve had too many years of toil, undone.

The pigeon mates for life as does the dove.
The boredom of humanity we see.
Innumerate, unwise, we fall in love.

And what of God, whom we say dwells above?
To his judgment what shall be our plea?
They say he’s died and so it will not come

 

There was no obit on the BBC
God is dead and Nietzsche’s on TV
Enumerating  all the  sundry ways of love
Took  many years of toil; it can’t be done

 

 

 

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About Katherine

I like poetry and history.I love literature and music.
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink.

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