Apologea

Conscience struggles against desire,
ice and fire.

Early this morning
I left my bed
and went to a private place
to be alone with my thoughts for you.
There, I surrender to desire
and spilled my seed in your name.
Afterward, I filled with shame,
feeling I had dishonored you.

Yet must I confess this beast,
risking your loathing for its presence.
I will not consume my feelings;
too much of you invades all facets of my senses;
you are with me in all ways.

Who is this Child of Spring,
come to me in the autumn of my life?
In my youth I searched in vain for you,
finally concluding you were only a dream.
Now, I am filled with wonder,
knowing the reality of your existence.

And what am I to do of it?

Yesterday, someone looked at me with loathing,
and it puzzled me, until I realized
it was from love of you;
and I hated myself, as if I had
just face Sylvia Plath's mirror
and I, too, was disturbed
by the grotesque images staring back at me.

Still, I cannot deny you;
I feed on you like a bee on a flower;
the nectar of your mind
flows into honeyed verses of my rhymes.

Every waking hour my thoughts are with you,
not of my own creation, they have sprung unplanted
like wildflowers in a dark wood.

Do not speak the word
Do not speak the word
Do not speak the word
Do not speak the word

For it will consume us