To an Ideal

Throughout my night, a beacon shines
Its power grows, never declines.
I let it guide me long ago,
To find its source. I had to know.

A statue, first, she seemed to me
More perfect than mere art could be.
But then my dazzled eyes could see
More than mortal vitality.

Ivory and flaxen gold
Forever young, centuries old
Amaze beneath the spiraled horn
That marks and makes her unicorn.

Diamonds grace her royal brow
And I must struggle on, somehow
To catch in words the grace that lies
Upon her face, within her eyes...

Her orbs form two unfathomed pools
Whose shine the mind behind them rules.
They gleam with laughter, song and story.
Or flash with power, strength and glory.

What sees she when she looks at me?
Too worn for youth, past purity,
Yet wise enough for awe and fear
That burgeon when she pauses near.

She’s an effulgent, shining truth.
Of ancient age, eternal youth.
The sight of her soon took its toll.
She holds a lien on my soul.

She lacks just woe, not sympathy.
She deigns to notice such as me,
But I am but a passing gleam
In her unending living dream.

Beauty has drawn me since my birth.
Hers is more lasting than this earth.
Perfection worth Platonic love,
That I shall not soon fall out of.

One cannot soil with desire.
One cannot hope, dare to aspire
To hold, possess such loveliness.
To touch, to mar, is to distress.

The thought of her consumes my days,
Her frown destroys, her smiles amaze
And never slip their grip on me,
I’m doomed to seek them endlessly.


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There is still beauty in the world, and some of the mythical archetypes still resonate with awe-inspiring power.