One half my life has winged since I met you.
Yet thirteen years few cycles seem to me.
From crest to trough, then trough and crest anew,
‘twixt phases two I swung in agony.
When words are carefully chosen, I compose
confession my, but lose my dare to act.
When boldness flashes, I to you disclose
my heart, yet have no word from mind t’extract.
In such repeating paths I oscillate
to seize the fleeting chance at perfect point
when wisdom and true valor do equate;
the disconnected heart and brain shall joint.
Ere time steals wit and strength and leaves me spent,
I’ll break my chains, speak, act, no more repent.
2016/1
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