(The Lovers, William Powell Frith, 1855)

 

Set Before You

How many times do you look

but don’t see

Sentiments flowing like water

Expressing all that clutters my mind; my heart

but don’t hear

Written in solidness, ink dried, no denial or obfuscating

but don’t understand

It is put out there, no, thrown out there

As if it has a mind of its own; no willpower to be elusive

Nothing lies within the shadows

All truths set forth

Like sunlight so bright

It blinds; blurring what is right before you

Quiet in my reverie, but not illusive

Grasp, take what has always been yours

Through the veil of propriety

Not given by man, but deemed by our souls

I shall not deny you