Some truths by cogitation are perceived
Which yet eschew the heart's profound attention.
What's writ' in distant wisdom is believed
By Mind alone, and thus the apprehension
Is blunted, silenced, like so many warnings
Your mother gave ad nauseam. Yet in time
You lie awake from dusk to early morning
And take to heart what once you took to rhyme.
Thus questions once evaded and ignored
Return unto the fold a gathered host,
Demanding tribute for their conquering horde,
And hurried action, lest the field be lost.
When thought and feeling yet at odds remain
The wisest words must fail to sustain.
George Chadderdon © 1994