The philosopher pronounces on the metaphysics of love:
I read his thoughts with rapt attention ..
How could you get it all so wrong?
(With temerity I venture to query) ..
Only someone blackly nihilistic, I aver,
could find that we, the human race,
are traitors at our core; with the Will to Live,
(he makes his case) ,
we seek to perpetuate the turmoil and pain of life
in progeny of our own, he thinks ,
to find an immortality in this grim perpetuity
the sole purpose of living ..
Grace, beauty, tenderness, the joy of giving;
these unmechanistic corollaries of love
I find strewn like dead flower stalks
upon this pessimistic path you walk ..
Herr Schopenhauer, head bent, walks on, woebegone … .