Love is a subject
glorified by apparitions
by lengthly ghosts passer-bye’s
good-bye hosts. Love was not
Cohen’s victory march, rather
On the slow rise
your words are as
knives or butterflies.
Still sleeping in a
daydream, a walk-about
Trail of replicas to my
If I dared write
what’s in my heart,
what’s on my mind,
what drives me on,
I’d attract ants,
and bring bees
to the smell...
I see you, not as words —
not a single quote
or chapter — but as
an unfolding story.
And I love reading the story
that you are —...
I’d gladly pit myself against goblins,
To save a town’s populace.
My body is worth nothing to me,
I’d give it up just for the chance to save others.
And I’d return battered and bloody,
To a grateful town’s smiles.
I’d throw myself against Behemoths,
To save those in their warpath,
I’d drive a spear right in it’s heart,
And in doing so win people’s hearts,
I’d have all my broken limbs,
Tended by a hopeful women,
Utterly smitten with my selflessness,
And I’d give them all a smile that said,
I’d gladly do it again and again.
I’d charge against a Dragon,
Just for those shining grateful eyes,
I’d stab at it with justice and valor,
Never once even thinking of my safety,
I’d conquer the beast to save others,
And slay 1000 more,
For a hero’s work is never done,
And he never ceases earning admiration.
But there are no place for heroes today,
No dragons that need to be slain,
And for one who values himself as so little,
He has no place,
And earns no admiration,
So his mind turns to the dragon’s he’d gladly slay.