My mind is feeble.
I engorge myself with visions of you
and your weltanschauung,
so exquisite it tugs the arteries of my heart
and threaten to rip my valves,
this heat in my blood is my passion
to be worldly and dispassionate like you.
I claw at your stratosphere,
so I may breathe the air you breathe
but my lungs aren't made for it.
The sad howling of the wind you sometimes hear
that is my longing for you.
If I could just stand before you and not cower
perhaps I'll discover the key to my destiny.
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