All men are fools

Some for the heart,
others the word.
Some sail the world, craving cruel waters;
some cry over a scorned offer;
some die free;
some die before they can see
who they really are. Fools, fools, all fools.

And me, please let me be
the kind of fool that steps over the abyss
just to see if land will rise up to meet my feet,
if this echo from the pit of the stomach
urging me on
is anything beyond an errant firing of the synapses.
Let me be, since I have to be,
a fool for you, my Love.
Let us breathe the breath of life
into this. Oh, what is this?
The rain is falling down.
Now we close the windows and contemplate
the pit-pit-patting of fate.

Khoi