Plea for the Accounted

Why do you account me to be so dishonest?
If I foolishly say I can give you the moon and stars,
it is because my love makes me feel that I can.
For what limitations can exist?
And what obstacle can delay me?
When my heart is as boundless as this?
When I see the future reflected in the pool of your oracle eyes?

How can you account my love to be so vile?
Have I yelled, scoured or croon distaste?
Have I bruised your heart in a disastrous way?
Have I spoke something that chains you?
How should I? And in what way?
With hands trembling weakly I cannot catch the hem of your sleeve.

And what can a mere mortal man do in the presence of a goddess?
To lose a heart and gain a soul.
So awed I, so glorious you to look down upon me.
Pretty even down to that shimmering core.
What offerings should I lay at your feet?
What sacrifices and scents could I lathe thy alter?

No absent key, I'll open all the doors.
They are useless vain measures.
No waiting and dreaming away, no empty days,
I proffer this all now.
For how long can I count rose petals of "does she"?
Hoping against hope for a quenching,
all with a love drug drenched head?

 

© 1998

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Asdzani Bah & her "Pandora's Box"