This is the end of the Wings series, yes the Gods did play a cruel joke on both of us. We were incompatible.   The lady flew back to Sweden and I moped for a week or two.

Too Brittle

Wings for me
Feather so light.
Too brittle
For my rough way.
Yours from art
Mine from the mountain.
Flying bird
Flying high.

You escape from
A love.
Escape you have
Love will search for another.
Less exacting mind
A lover of life.
No more untrue wings
Sarcasm banished.

Swim, surf and Sun
Not to dwell.
No regrets
Another day dawns.
True beauty lies not in abstract
In the person.
Deep within, far from
Unseeing eyes.

Back to Tao
Red and black.
We move on
To what we know not.
Watching mountains
Thinking what could have been.
A sophisticates dream
Pedantic profiler.

Look at the person
Not the words.
Love can be written
But must be felt.
All else is clouds and smoke
Spirals in the sky.
Parachuting to earth
Hard and soft landing.

If we had extra fingers
They could point out.
Where hearts should lie
Not here we know.
But where?
When and why.
Do I care for a heart
Diametrically opposed to mine?