A Letter Of Longing To A Potential Lover

Forgive me do, for I have fallen in love with you

Tis' very true, so try now to wrangle for reasons why

This is what seems to be the downfall, pitfall, blind-spot

Of man's condition, a rendition of certain ruin

A pantheon performance, which marries personal prohibition

With personal seduction, so now the soul is set in shackles!

For feigning pride and honest humility, are dutifully set aside

Chosen, engaged as composers and conductors

Of a state that may well be, consciously concieved

As chaotic creation alas! for revelation and delegation

Have reared their moral mount, heeding and heralding

Their seemingly heavenly host, and doth take a sip serene

From a truthful, trusting toast, admirably allowing

Countenance's flood-gate's when, given half the chance

To let freely flow forward, the suffering soul's long-worn sanity stormward

Hence, emotional escape! now peacefully surrounds the ecstasy-enthused ether!

For too many times to mention, these fettered feelings hath suffered

Some apparently essential, existential detention!

Some well might say, tis' evolution's extravagant yet exhausting way

To god-like germinate, and lay claim

With a nomenclature-nuisance name