There was a time my heart did seek the light,
Whilst I was just a man upon this earth.
With every loving syllable I tried,
To take my soul and turn my love to verse.
But though she glowed like gold and jewels and joy,
My pen would not stay clear upon its path.
And of the few meek stanzas I produced,
The mindless fools surrounding me would laugh.
Their scorn was naught to me but senseless noise,
My loves sweet tones were all I cared to hear.
So when her words came sharp and filled with scorn,
I shied from her and drew away in fear.
To the streets I ran without a thought,
Pain and anger driving me to anguish.
Jilted by the queen I once had worshiped,
I fell among the filth and there did languish.
Then within the darkness and the shadow,
I found a creature born of deepest night.
Still stinging from the burns of my loves lashes,
Her cool flesh soothed and drew me from the light.
I stayed then in the safety of the twilight,
Never again stepping out in day.
For fear that once again, the sun would burn me,
The moon was now the torch to light my way.
For years I stayed beside my midnight lady,
And found myself enraptured with her ways.
But never did my love for her compel me,
To once again return the pen to page.
No sonnets did I sing of her fair beauty,
No semblance of a Canto could be found.
And though I often likened her to moonlight,
I never once made move to write it down.
Though I had grown to think our love eternal,
The time arrived my shadow drew away.
No longer safe below her shielding curtain,
I found myself again exposed to day.
A light now stood before me fierce and fearsome,
Every instinct screamed at me to run,
But like a moth to flame I was drawn closer.
And coveted that, which sense said I should shun.
And now I find a part of me forgotten,
Rising up again and flying high.
From the ash and cinders of my burned heart,
A sense of hope I hardly can describe.
For my first, my words were flat and feeble,
For my second, the thought of words a bore.
But now I find my passion once more kindled,
The words flow as they never have before.
The three I’ve loved are all so very different.
For each I’ve bent and broken who I am.
To shape myself to something they might welcome,
When I reach out in hope to take their hand.
The fool I started as, was scorned and pitied,
The monster I became, a hated fiend.
Now in my desperate bid to prove I’m worthy,
I strive to be the man I’ve never been.