Plea from a Lover

It won’t last, this Othello’s love With sweet thoughts Fallen like the slain dove In jealous poisons will our thoughts die No fault of ours Only thinking forever the lie But perhaps in this storm we find A time to shed rain A time to behold what once was blind No matter how bitter, speak words of right Tell me your truths even If the beat of my chest doth smite Me straight from my ignorance Let it be so For if so mild it be my penance Let come your truths and mine For even in this dark I find that with you I do shine So let come your truths, and I’ll let my own Let this seed that we’ve planted now become sown