My dear, there's a dichotomy
That has appeared 'tween you and me
A simple crack, hardly the worst
That doubled back until it burst
And let the floodgates open wide.
This type of thing's begun before
It wipes out pain, then washes more
Over the necks of those who float
And could correct, if they devote,
The way they swim - Until the tide
Pulls stronger yet, and you and I
No longer wade 'neath purpled sky:
We bubble as we're pulled away
And feel troubled as neither say,
"Good God, we're drowning in our pride."
May 12
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