Farce

‘Is feeling ever wisdom’s prescience?
Through self or vicarious experience?’
“Well, a lack needs an ‘other’
To let you know you’re ‘only’ better
And that’s all that’s vicarious of sentience.”

She countered with needless sternness.
‘Well then; my sadness takes form in your furnace
Our union, you see,
Is but a notional decree;
For my happiness finds no matching purchase.’

————————————————————

[For my only aniyan, whose rhyming guile coaxed gloom to reconcile with smile]

About these ads

One thought on “Farce

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s