i wrote you this poem

A Call to Arms (Yours) : A Love Battle [TO(' ')ME]

I'm adapting to the times everyday,
trying to limit the little crimes into which we sway
sometimes just to make a day,
to finish quick, or make her stay.

And slowly i'm realizin
just what this all is, but it's still surprising-:
how i find that i can rely
on the simple sense that i at times forget....
and i'm getting better at remembering
to be patient as i rush to seize the day,
and that it will one day come to me,
that which i swear i'll never see (today).

It's not merely faith but pursuance too,
when i prefer to be true and not lazy/truant,-
not simply clever but careful - prudent.~

So i'm poised as i perform my duties:
listen-watch-listen- disturb neither the ugly nor the gloried,
as i silently concentrate on the manifold tasks before me.

Then, when they're done (they're never really),
i go to my room and meditate:
(the sun kisses)
on the pitcher of honey;
i have a spoon as i stare at your picture-
wondering which road via that i will proceed to your presence (indeed).

Which brings me back to the present battle,
for which i am a warrior prepared of course,
but not with swords and daggers,
yet still with more precise instruments
to thwart the efforts of those who may seek to impair my course
(they haven't learned);

But mostly (maybe even with them),
i'm here to share the same light,
as i sip from the pitcher of honey
and pour it over dough that rises warm....
i do this all the time

After all,
i'm not attracted to the crimes of mankinds:
i'm remembering the universe,
reflected in the hemispheres of your lens eyes, and in
the way two worlds combine and blend
and grow... deep
til earth's words become too small

END