I remember a footnote,
With a beautiful Arnaut quote,
In the Companion Guide,
To Pound’s Cantos ride.
It compared a Poet’s tribulations,
To Fire’s Purifications,
But now I wonder,
‘Are there no limits?’
If only I could believe,
That every loss I bereave,
Will one day become a treasure,
Of beauty, fun and pleasure,
– If not for myself to enjoy,
Then at least a communal poetic toy –
Then I would celebrate the fact
That there are, indeed, no limits!