Campaign

The first time, we walk into love
Like an infant walking into no-man's land.
All around us, brilliance and sound,
Lights and colours,
And no thought of shields or weapons.
We are, of course, mortally wounded.

The next time, remembering the first,
We seek again the vision and the moment,
The headlong rush, the reckless loss of self.
But now, from the corner of the eye, we notice movement,
And when the end comes, though it devastates,
We realize that it was half-foreseen.

And so, on.
As time goes by, we gird ourselves;
Reluctantly, we learn the use
Of plans and strategies:
What favours us, and what we should avoid.
But, knowing, still we court the coup de grâce.

We cannot now be innocent,
We cannot shed the baggage that we bear.
And yet, among the broken masonry,
We look for what we started out to find:
Brilliance and sound,
Lights and colours,
And someone other than ourselves to know.