Hope is a waking dream.
--Aristotle
He learned from Plato, taught Alexander.
Cicero called his writing a river
of gold. Hope seemed his pathway to candor,
root to paying attention, how slivers
of soft light pass from knowledge to wisdom.
Step close with me, love. Let’s study his bust.
His curved locks combed forward offer winsome
hope to fend off baldness. How human. Must
we trust his brushed beard helped him look wiser,
his books and teachings not enough? Affairs
with Herpyllis and Palaephatus serve
to show him no miser with lust. It’s fair
to say he trusted love, defined its ties:
a single soul living in two bodies.
Roger Armbrust
July 3, 2010
