Poem of the day, courtesy of a hopelessy romantic Dathan circa spring, 2000:

I know that the world doesn't listen
Or pay attention to people like me.
And it's not my place or position
To decide how things should be.

And the universe shall continue
As it always has before
Without my seeing you again
Standing outside my door.

And my heart will nevertheless survive
Should you say goodbye.
But I can't help but think
Of that look in your eye

That first made me fall in love
With beautiful, beautiful you.
And I cannot help but wish
You'd say you love me, too.

But being loved isn't everything
Though love is to me;
And so I'll keep on loving you
Just you wait and see.

I'll continue loving you
Day after day after day
Hoping, wishing, praying aloud
That I could, come what may

Even without your love, somehow
I'll manage to survive.
And wherever you go you'll have
A love that will never die.

And if I never see you again
Still life goes ever on
Though there'll an empty place
In my heart when you're gone.

And though another of your smiles
May never grace my eyes
And there will be thundering clouds
Amid rain, and dark skies.

The sun will someday emerge again
And dry up all my tears.
Though it may take spans of time
Measured in months or years

Soon I will get over you;
You'll be part of my past
For even the darkness of
Your absence cannot last.

Thus, in the time before we part
There's something I must do.
As many times as possible
I must say "I love you."

And maybe if I show my feelings
In my eyes or in my voice
Then you'll start believing me.
You'll have no other choice.

And then it will be well worth
The pain and sorrow and tears
And I'll be richer than any king
For the rest of my years

And that will be the final proof
Of a power eternal and grand
A power that infuses minds,
And lives, and hearts, and hands.

The proof of a power given us
By our Lord in Heaven above;
A power everlasting and great:
That is the power of love.

So great and lovely is its power
That I'll remember you forever
And countless many years from now
I'll love you more than ever.

Because you were part of my life
A companion, a good friend
And I give to you a gift of myself:
A love that will never end.

I wish I knew you felt the same
And though I think you do
I have little proof to show,
You gave me but one clue:

For though you've never said it,
Still I'll accept in lieu
The fact that I can see you smile
When I say "I love you."

So let me take this with me
And let me know it's true
That when you smile back at me
It means, "I love you, too."

Sometimes it's good to be sappy, I guess. The poem's a little rough, but I've chosen not to change it from its original form. Nostalgia, maybe.

Love, nostalgia, joi de vie, hope... They're the same thing, really. Joi de vie is love of the present, nostalgia is love of the past, hope is love of the future, and love is just love. The funny thing, though, is that hope and nostalgia are very poetic, but joie de vie isn't. When was the last time you heard a truly great poem about how great the world is this second? It's always about the future, or about the past. The future lives only in our hope and imaginations, and the past lives only in our memories, so we try to give them more life in our poetry. But we live in the present, and it lives in us. It is the only one of the three with life, and hence we need not try to express it. We cannot help but express it. We are, ourselves, the purest expression of the present, even when we're composing and putting into words the past and the future. The future is shaped by our memories of the past. Our recollection of the past is shaped by how we see the present, and how we see the present is shaped by both what we hope for in the future and how we remember the past. It's one, big, beautiful loop.

See what I come up with at 3:00 am? Sheesh, I'm going to bed.