AVANT SOUL

Dear Alice, 
These days I find myself
	in a world oddly crass -- lacking wonder --
		yet full of more than one exasperating ass.

If I could take all the happiness I feel, 
	no matter how transparent,
		and filter it into a glass

Then whenever persons were disheartened or sad,
	or whose energies were blighted with misery soured

Elixirs of gladness could be placed in a chalice
	and with just a few drops of gladness, 
		depression is lifted, 
			countenance becomes shining, 
				and new faces 
					show no traces of bitters, 
						 malcontent, or malice...

Dear Alice,
If I might take all the sadness I feel, 
	no matter how unreal,
		and extract it to just one bottle

Then whenever someone is overly joyous or glad, 
	or whose energy blinds bright and delightful

Two drops of sadness shall be placed under the tongue
	and their exuberance will soundly be throttled...

Dear Alice, now, more than ever,
We need the whimsy and razzle,
	the fun and the dazzle,
		of your wise looking glass.

I for one can't increase 
Far longing in someone's heart for my presence,
		no matter how often I flatter 
			her keen mind with wise wonder --

Or replenish my lady's cup with my mead.

Nor can I uncover a memory refined
	in the knowing heart of the woman 
		I love and always need...

Without her touch and gentle caress
	I'm left alone in this cellar of sadness,
		holding dusty, dim bottles 
			devoid of starlight sparkling, far-flung...

Where -- no matter how many drops of happiness 
	I might utter to her -- 
		no folk tunes of wisdom seem to lay siege 
			to her emotions by my unrushed, velvet tongue --

So then I pen these slight vessels of words 
	which can never be substitute
		for her visage, soft gaze, or her vital essence...

And wait
	with concentrated extracts of nectar
		to remind my heart 
			of forgotten hymns it once sung --

To be in the full chorus of her arms 

	     once again

			with my heart rapturously singing --

		      		and be blessed.
	       ****