Classic Poem

Wisdom, I think, is made of these
Three discoveries:

First, the raw, incredible ache
Of a new heartbreak.

Bitter this—but bitterer far
Learning how brief all heartbreaks are,
When the hurt heals over and leaves no scar.

And last, that love full-feasted even
Is somewhat short of utter heaven.

Wisdom is wrought of these
Three certainties.