Love! You are, indeed, so pure,
That you ever beggar description;
Love! They are so poor for sure,
That they never trigger a definition;
Love! Hidden are your treasures;
They can never view your stature
So open are your great pleasures;
They can never spell your power.
They have their own appreciation
For physical charms; selfish claims;
They have their own recognition
For parochial goals; false fames;
The dove’s lesson can’t sermonize
For they are blind to your excellence
The cloud’s sermon not to realize
For they are blunt to your eminence;
When you start, you know no ending
They learn that you are pragmatic
You have no demise but bearing
This is the true critique of a critic.
METVERSE MUSE
Nos. 70 & 72 Double Issue - June 2022
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