We cannot speak the depth of what we feel,
Despite that words and feelings in our blood
Are flowing like your face has been revealed,
And at the barest touch you are a flood.
Yes, you created logic, reason, minds,
And gave us wills to conquer foolish hearts,
To leave the bare emotions far behind,
And cling to knowledge--all that life imparts.
But without love and passion, faith and trust,
Which you yourself have felt more still than we,
Then we are less than human, cold, unjust.
We turn to know much more than what we see.
We feel you and we know you, both in turn;
We must content ourselves with chaos spurned.
postscript
Day ten of NaPo, day six of my crown of sonnets.