Mary E-A. K. Remaniak Poetry

As in the fire, silver melts and runs into a stream,
So in the heart does passion lie molten and flowing.
Through the veins like fire, the red blood spurts and burns.
Yet even nightfall does not allow a ceasing
Of the warmth that sweats out duller virtues.
Moderation and justice forgotten by
The lover’s version of a virtuous life.
Passionate eros brings out courage, generosity, and devotedness,
But makes one blind and single-minded
To that which could be truth
And serves the purpose.
The art of suicide presents an answer
But is condemned and avoidable.
Making false miracles is preferable to a firey death
And a rashness governed by beauty’s slave the end-all.

Poet: Mary E-A. K. Remaniak