Woe, this is fun
Why do we let ourselves be lured into attractive promises of tender and loving grace, while the inevitability of transience hovers above our heads as clouds of irony? Was dumped today, pretty abruptly too. Along with this, a friend shared some poetry with me that was directly salient with this situation. The poems were: “The Listeners” by Walter de la Mare, and “Sonnet 29” by Edna St. Vincent Millay. Here are the links: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/148560/pity-me-not-because-the-light-of-day https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47546/the-listeners She speaks of the throes and woes of love initially as transient yet periodic; as “the light of day” which “at close of day no longer walks the sky”, as wintry “fields and thickets”, among other poignant metaphors. Through this, there is a sense of persistence and endurance, saying “pity me not”. She arrives at a new point on line 7, of “man’s desire” being “hushed so soon” whence he will “no longer look with love on me”. But she