You elusive woman, woe to you!
I say, woe--
Or do I mean it?
Can I mean it?

You who hide behind
This empty poetry;
Your presence damns me,
Your mystery confounds me.

Rational, I may be.
But, like that Transcendent Being (God, My GOD!)
I cannot hope to define you.

In all my interest,
I am all but left,
with the torment, the pain..
Of having to accept
The fact that I
may never know you fully.