I need to get to the bottom of you.
I’ve had some superficial loves; now only the deep will do.
Love makes cowards of us all:
We choose the rich, the beautiful, the tall,
And then because we’re cowards, love makes us sad.
The only way to love is to be completely mad.
So come, let us go
And find what love can know.
We stare at a Rembrandt for hours,
We listen to Mozart for a day.
We peek behind the curtain
Of a Shakespeare play.
Someone speaks to us openly
Of things we consider in bad taste.
We write the letter quickly
And sign it, “Yours, in haste.”
Now we plunge towards stone even as cold winds blow
Around the never yielding, the never beautiful, below.
