just another love poem

"what kind of a person does that?"
pain, my friend, causes much that we do not understand.
despair brings only despair, therefore
question not.
for to walk over the hot coals
of critical acumen into the fire of regret
-where there is no water
no wine
no vice
that could ever quench you-
can bring you to a truth 
that burns a scar so thick
nothing, not even death
can penetrate it.  
In that isolation
one can not know faith.
wisdom may come
at some far removed moment
and the many long hours of our lives 
that were wasted in an instant
are regained beyond all previous measure
with a mere change of mind.