The Honey Farmer's Bane (A Villanelle)

Oh love, only a fool would possess thee,
You are a deceitful trickster, old and wise
Amidst thy robes of splendor are barbs, which make the bravest flee.

Oh sweet, sweet love, you can be likened to Eve's tree,
When you are partaken of, one's freedom inevitably dies.
Oh love, only a fool would possess thee.

You, my desperate companion, are like a rose, dressed beautifully,
Yet your source is covered in thorns, torturing lives.
Enough! Oh crier in the night, oh friendly foe, the hell with ye!

How tired, oh restless one, you make poor humanity.
yet, in all truth, it is the lack and loss of you, not you, which creates such cries.
Oh love, only a fool would possess thee?

You are torture that we need, like cancer's chemotherapy,
You are all that makes life alive, for the lovers, the grooms, and the wives.
How dull and dreary would your absence be, you are the paint on a canvass, the blue of the sea.

So, my noble mysterious friend, truly we adore you, you see.
You bestow yourself upon every human being of every shape and size.
Oh love, only a fool would possess thee,
Perhaps not then, for if you miserably ceased to be, I, in truth, would write you a grateful, ambivalent eulogy.

(C)2008, By Eric M. Wilson