Seeing the edges of Pleasant Horizons, and dark cliffs which
Hang its head lower into its ditches, consuming its body like
Morbid curiosities of the flesh. Tampering away at what the body
Could and shouldn't love.
All Pleasant Horizons need not appraisal from the vain.
Nor do they need the wicked mentions of Men that seek to destroy
All forms of love, of sanctity, of small things
That make the world whole and full and loved to the very brink
Of every atom that the mind could concieve.
A pleasant surprise on a dreary day, a lavish good or commodity
That takes one's breath away--
Like looking into her eyes again, once more, for the first time
Full of curiosity and joy, all I could ask for
Was the pleasantness of one's horizon, day by day
To seek out and love with no dismay of chagrin that may come upon the lips.
