Trust not thy heart in matters of consequence,
for the heart is grand master of deception,
wherein truth lies dormant, awaiting discharge.
Speak quietly, lest thy words portend weakness,
hence permitting atrophy of spirit to beset thee.
Go thine way upon bountiful and pleasant winds,
looking naught to which hast forsaken thee.
Thy love long sought awaits beyond darkness,
where moon shadows wed the morning sun;
there, embittered souls reclaim lost youth,
timeless kisses drip of love’s sweetest nectar,
and I, my love, with ecstasy’s embrace,
await thee.