Complications

This world has turned
too complicated,
and we hardly seem able
to do things that matter
in simple, beautiful, ways.
There are a million customs,
thousands of possible rituals,
endless unfathomable mixtures
of customary practices,
merged, evolved, melded,
in infinitely complicated ways,
as chaotic patterns,
that defy proper response,
defy reasonable prediction
as to course of action.
The world has turned
too complicated
and we hardly seem able
to do things that matter
in simple, beautiful, ways,
and that is part of the reason
why it is so difficult
to find even on effective way
to say to a beloved other,
that one truly loves,
for it always seems lost
in the noise of it all,
among customary practices,
among a million rituals,
an endless compilation
of complications,
until it is the hardest thing
to find one effective way
to say to a beloved other,
that one truly loves,
the hardest thing to say
I love you, truly I love you,
and find one has response
that is simple, beautiful,
instead of all lost
in the endless dark abyss
of human culture
with its confrontations,
its meldings, mergings,
its confoundings,
its compoundings
of conflicted ways,
and what now do I do
to tell my beloved other
that I love you,
when a world turns
ever so complicated
that hardly anything is heard
and ever less is believed
of anything as can be said
in simple, beautiful ways?
My beloved, tell me,
what can I do,
what can I say,
how might I convince you
in simple, beautiful ways?