Liberal Education.

I came. You called.
I paced -
In and out of hours
Blind
The kind poets sing of
Blind love
Beautiful, pulled gold
From the cold earth
Torn, tarnished
Polished - alive.

Bleeding, beating hearts
Thudding unsteady,
A metronome tick - click
The pace of ordinary life
Too ordinary for you

You, destined for greatness
Or the grave.

Should I have followed?
Half a decade later
I should know.

Know myself, at least
If not how, or why
For me, the remains of
Our bleeding hearts still smoulder.

I don't know why.
I don't know how.

To truly know, I've been told
Is to know you don't.

To truly be - well, at ease?
Signpost the way, stranger
Please.