The dance:

Steps and twirls,

Song and rhyme!

Rehearsed, unrehearsed;

Subtle and smooth

(Powerful and effective).



I dance

Not for myself,

But around the flower.

The angel in my garden,

The jewel of my eye!

The one whom God has grown

And made so very strong!



Then, we'll dance together,

If the flower enjoys.



The prize,

The gift for my effort,

the light at the end;

Where my struggles and pain cease to matter!

Where i can call myself content;

Nuzzled in her arms,

(The leaves of my little flower).

At first, 
It's as if there's a veil, 
Covering her face.
Shapes, lines,
I'm left to color in
With my dreams, expectations;
Forming her as I want,
Not as she is.

Soon enough,
The veil comes off;
I find her to be breathtaking,
Refreshing,
Different.
I'm lost in her wonderful world,
Hoping to get stay that way.

Like a drop of rain,
hanging from the leaf -
that lofty precipice,
fluttering in the wind -
I fell from my spot in the heavens,
and crashed to the ground.

Singular, no longer,
I searched for my pieces,
and found many,
but some were taken by the other drops,
and by the grass.

I found myself, too,
with new parts grafted on,
and I became distressed.

So I cursed the earth,
for making me what I was,
for making me so fragile,
and so abundant
(that a droplet would go unnoticed).

Flutter flutter
The wings of my heart,
Making its journey from one person to the next,
Losing a bit of itself each time, 
Trying to graft on what doesn't belong,
In the hope that it would be beautiful,

Oh, it wants to be beautiful.

I can hardly recognize it.
We've changed so much.
My body wishes to go one way,
The heart trembles, timidly agrees,
But it is not ready,

Aye, I am too anxious for even my own flesh,
So much do I mistrust myself,
I distrust everyone.

Noe one can bring me solace,
No one can soothe the cries of a weary heart,
I want to start over,
But I only have what I am given,
And I've already messed that up.

So today,
I tried to make
a bride and groom
out of paper.

I started with the groom.
Folding away,
it eventually came to be.
(It looked like it should.)

Then, I tried to make the bride,
but couldn't.
I folded, made creases,
but it ripped.

I tried again, with another sheet of paper.
I folded, made creases,
but the more I did,
the harder each next step became.

I eventually gave up,
I was too frustrated.
I could only make a groom,
but I couldn't make a wife.

And oh,
If I could explain the tears,
that sometimes dwell next
to my eyes
I'd fear
that I'd have nothing
to tell you.
I do not cry
for peace, nor out
of terror.
I do not cry
because of pain, nor
of jubilee.

So I tell you
that my eyes, they
are dry.

Now, leave me alone,
to my work,
to my self,
that I may be occupied
with important matters,
and,
that my loneliness
would not be seen,
that my broken heart
would not show itself
any longer.

I am sitting in the car and
I see rolling hills,
a blue sky,
the green of the trees; I am content.

I believe that the best way
to imagine heaven is to look at
what you most love; this is heaven.

I sit back in my seat
and I celebrate the company
of others; this is perfect.

Sun on my body,
warming my internal;
doctor, would you
write me another prescription?

But, missing here, my love
—she, who makes perfection perfect,
to be here forever—a joy to my heart.

Ah, but I feel her in the warmth,
I smell her in the air,
I see her in the clouds,
always with me, just as I like it.