Here is what I want to say:

There are many You’s and I’s in love,

with its constant violation

made of We’s.

 .

As hopes are wishes and intentions,

a world of mountains, skies and sea

plus endless weather –

their erosion.

 .

And the work – this all of it – a singing

of narrative hums and harmonies –

la grande bellezza fraught

with its necessary discord.

 .

There are far too many factors

for the truth.  Indeed, a ‘truth’ may be

whatever is that’s all of them –

 .

the beauty, and its imperfecting –

ever-ending,

always already begun.