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I. How the Lovers Found True Love After All  II. Like Words, Like Music |
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How the Lovers Found True Love After All They say the woods are full of mystery, who venture in and do not reappear until such time as they achieve a mastery of signs employed by sprites, who feel no fear. Not so, the lovers, who, not knowing better, scatter their emotions like plucked daisies across the forest floor, some sweet, some bitter: spasmatic measures of how much love is crazy. The trick's to have the one you love in view when he or she can see no one but you. It helps, to get the other in the mood, to call them out at night to walk the wood. People will tell you the forest has its way with those who walk it all-worked-up. Desperate, lonely, lovesick every day, they sniff the devil's paintbrush, the buttercup. Who can predict when Cupid's state is bliss, and Eros can spare an amorous advance? Our lovers, heretofore astray, amiss, found true love's path by the seat of their pants. Marvin Bell
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Like Words, Like Music Some have heard the music in the trees that has no words, but words they have more than music, and so they sing. Others have heard the words of love that make no sound, but sounds they have more than silence, and so they speak. For them, there's crackling music in a fire, a round in the rapids, shimmery chords midair, and a drumming in the earth. What's worth more than our poverty that needs such speech and song as poets and lovers are helpless not to utter? Lovers have a music in their heads, the words by heart, and could not love long were they less heartfelt, less headstrong. Midsummer's a confluence of time and passion, when those halfway to matrimony labor to compose their love symphony. Shakespeare knew his meters and strewed them along the garden path and in the wood that those who needed most to hear them could. Lovers, though you be neither courtly nor English, yet you have other traits worth a show, so sing and play together, for you never know. Marvin Bell |
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