the point

The point, I imagine is
Not to learn to expect
betrayal, self-deceit, lies
however thick they collect
in the cul-de-sac of one’s days,
half-noticed, half-numbered, half-checked;
but rather to learn to praise
fidelity, trust and love
which in their modest ways
continue to be and move
(however mocked, however derided
however difficult, indeed to prove),
utterly undivided-
if inarticulate or mute,
still mortally decided.

Neither fashionable nor astute
This point to take to heart:
Merely final and absolute;

Without it no people, no life, no art

Evan Jones, 1931


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