Suppose it was known at the first moment,
When you called on me to be your transition,
When you, through me, enabled yourself to punish men both past and present,
Vulnerable in me alone, left to liberate your power,
That grace would sever our connection.
I am no victim.
Through you I've seen paradise through strength,
In you, I carried my hidden reserve.
I let you hold all that I know, and can be,
So that I could remain choiceless, and meek, in the average eyes of the world.
I gave to you. Love poured from me like a decanter small,
and made of magic,
And you simply drank!
You drank and drank to my spirit's inspiration.
It was unconscious greed, a taker's spirit forged from a foreign place,
One where mercy and love, where civility, honor, and thoughtfulness,
Never dared to infringe on the impulse to survive,
But it did inspire me.
Such basic and consistent placement of self first in the face of all that works to will one toward the world's masquerade of sacrifice,
Was as astonishing to me as the freak, the genius, the new constellation,
And I still struggle to understand what your experience of the world is like,
Without the indefatigable tug of duty pulling at your pulsing heart.
I reached my limit.
And this discovery of imposition has warranted me my own selfish wills,
I will not soon mistake them for the fancies of another.
But I will say that there is grace in you,
As you travel, composed of want alone,
Healing those you hurt just enough to clear and clean the path you fashion,
And I'll idealize you because you never humanized yourself to me.
Or wanted my humanity.
Our service to each other like points that hold along the sky.
I affix my eyes on your cold and constant light.
And discover a direction.