Time for Love and Art

Troy Camplin
Nov 5 · 7 min read

Because I’d loved her more than anyone
That I had met before, much more than I
Should have, I came in to this crisis and the sun
Slow-setting on my spirit, made this cry
Go echo deeper through the lonely lands.
The emptiness that was in me, unknown
Still by me as I tried to fill demands
Made by the hollow that I made my own
Enfeebled way to touch my poor-souled spirit
To others’ through her soul, it never could
Connect me to another, I’m a weak fit —
Something I learned when she left me for good.
Provoking reason now asks me, a plea:
Should I try to connect — or should I flee?

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Troy Camplin

Written by

I am the author of “Diaphysics” and “Hear the Screams of the Butterfly,” and a consultant, poet, playwright, and interdisciplinary scholar.

Thyme and Time Again

The Poetry of Troy Camplin

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