I’ve never fallen short, O Beauty, mine
Finding new ways to say how my heart skips
Helen of Troy’s face launch’d one thousand ships
Yet you’ve inspir’d my verse, sev’n-thousand lines.
Why do you keep writing, O Poet, mine?
I touch transcendent grace when I reach you
Thus, leave too much unsaid, My Love, so true
So now, again, with pen, I pray, “Divine
Master, help me to reach her heart today
Hamartia, I’ve missed that mark again
When she deserves beyond my best to gain
Now, this poor fool seeks loving words to say.
As long as God’s Ruah dwells in my breast
I promise every day, you’ll have my best.
© 2017 David W. Palmer
Hamartia (pronounced ha-mar-TEE-uh) Greek – sin (defined as missing the mark)
Ruah (pronounced Roo-ach [a hard “h” like a “ch”]) Hebrew – spirit or breath, the soul