From the depths of my core
A few lines of poetry I bore
In the the barren soil of my mind
The last of my words I had to find
Yet the melancholy call of my prose
Seeks to yield from thee much more than a mere dose
Of pathetic applaud and of cathartic praise
Your love of my language is nothing but a phase
A phase of admiration for the seas I sail
Or perhaps of fear of the mountains I scale
Of love for the men I embrace
Of warmth in the light of loving grace
From that I bequeath you my tongue
Made of savoury malt and too many times stung
Take this moment to gestate meaning in thy soul
To shield and to nurture thy role
In this cornucopia of mere mortality
Where I hope to see more than just the delinquency of fools fascinated by ladies oh so pretty
Feel the darkness for more than the warmth of skin
Inching towards the edge and beyond kin
From the depths of my core
These sagacious bits of wisdom I bore
Featured image by Manuel Baechlin.
