I don’t deny I have a greedy heart.
Proud when it suits me, humble for some ends.
It’s true Desire and I are ancient friends;
I am no saint — that’s never been my part
(Though I can quote it). I’ve a poet’s sins:
I long to love, and sometimes love to long.
The darkness sometimes holds me with its song.
I dream I’ll stop the world. The world still spins.
But this I swear: my greedy heart is true.
I am myself, no pretense, no demands.
And what you give, I hold with open hands.
In awe, in wonder, of the Self that’s you.
Love me through all the ages or desist —
It is enough to know that you exist.