I envy all lovers

For their intimation of intimacy, and the sweetness of closeness 

Be it in togetherness, or in separation.

I envy Romeo, and Juliette

For their love of life, and their love of youth.

I envy the great poet Dante

For his love he descended into hell and was then reborn into a new day.

I even envy the mad German philosopher

True, he couldn’t pull it off, but his heart was willing

and his Geist was not,

(And she went off with another, in any case).

I envy Paris

What?  A city?

Yes, for her amour

and much else that goes on besides.

I envy that gem of the East (and probably the West also)-

Istanbul.

That monument to civilization

For every longing regard into the eye of the beloved

For every sigh of yearning, for every love letter written

From the dew of the heart.

I envy

The furtive glance

The lovely soul

The meeting of fates

The creating beyond oneself -

Of a new destiny.  Strong, proud, and resilient

Like a flower out of the concrete

A resounding “Yes!” in the face of an ineluctable universe

And yet, I envy my own envy

For envy is love of life, love of growth, love of creating

In short, love of love.