The Lost One
“Master Alfred de Musset says great artists … belong to space, to the universe, to anything infinite.” ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan
I could not give an outline of him, for how
Could I begin, or end? A paradox
Is all that could result. He’s just like now,
The moment that is notional. It locks
Us into one ephemeral, sly cast
That’s gone as soon as synapse hovers on
It. Try to lash him to a struggling mast
With lyricism calling, the foregone
Conclusion will be missed before the mind
Or heart can beat it out in filigree
Or golden mold. We might as well be blind
And using noses in attempts to see
Him. He is much too beautiful and flexed
For flimsy silhouette, for us, perplexed.