42. O magnum mysterium

Spin fragrantly
in sweet oblivion:
the dancers blush
amidst the swirling bees -

In clearest day,
the lilting petals judge,
unseeing leaves
incapable to say;

Naive, demure,
assent to every whim
so pliantly,
the next the merrier:

Such faces mute
in unrequited bliss,
their secret art
an enigmatic tune -

My feeble wiles
to such a riddle fail:
Their silence is
a stronger stuff than smiles.

41. Dearest

Tell me,
the sun – could it be thus explained
to blind men?
Scarce well-adjusted to its light,
I doubt so;
such brilliance, such vibrancy:
I fail here –

Dearest,
I cannot tell you such I know;
I shield you.
I hardly know the rules myself
but hope that –
the art transcends the feeble means
and reaches -
                       here:

40. A Moment

Enveloped in some distant thought,
you turned to me;
still lost in muddled reverie
distracted blinked,
as if awakened from a dream
to dream again:
a smile whipped upon those lips –
and caught my breath;
this spontaneity, this joy -
alarmed me so,
such recognition undeserved:
it startled me,
this unrepentant chivalry –
oh! had I thought
such isolation and resolve
could save me too,
could render me immune to this?

Instead, that smile -
had pressed its ultimatum thus,
enticing, rare;
how such a small acknowledgement
could turn me mute!
and though a thousand storms of thought
so futile fought,
I - hesitant, confused – collapsed,
surrendering,
still blinking my bewildered eyes,
and unprepared
was forced to see the blinding sun
and wordless, smiled!