TO A VULCAN
by Sherna Com.èrford
There is a sharing of self,
Reacliing...
Talting...
Joining...
Love.
There is understanding, and quiet pride.
Wild, passionate shouting.
A seelcing and a growing.
Life, and a nurpose in living.
There is sorrow and pain.
A drawing in,
Weeping,
An agony,
Lespair.
Sometimes there is death.
I weep for you. You will not weep for yourself. You lcnow sorrow, have lcnown love,
And deny it.
Is life worth this price?
A man-machine would pay no price.
Would die. What logic bids you live?
