Untitled [2001]

I know that thou hast questions,
And doubts and fears as well,
'bout myself and my intentions
That I pray that I might quell.

For in the past I oft did say
Unkindly words to one so dear,
Pushed thee and thy love away
And shut up my heart in fear.

Now I would tell thee my story
To give some indication,
Rather then simply "I am sorry"
I'll explain my inclination

...

To protect myself from rejection
Built up a wall impenetrable
And poisoned all with an injection
Of caustic words deplorable.

When I was but a little boy
A little's boys joy did I find
In nature and in science books -
Not in the fashions of the time!

'Tis a strange thing, a child who shuns
The interests of his little peers
Lives in a world, population one -
'Twas said he was a little queer!

As time wore on, things little changed
Unanchored still in the real world
He longed for company, and pained
Himself to find there was no girl.

Who suited him, or knew that he
Dreamt dreams of gold not glittering;
But golden sunlight urging gentl'y
The tentative buds in early spring.

So anger raged and hate was born.
Less, and less he loved the world
Lost in anger, his hope forlorn,
In anger's fiercest tempest whirled.

He learned to find the smallest chinks
In others' armour, and so excelled
At finding all the weaker links
In others' selves.  How he revelled!

He had a weapon so well concealed,
Behind smiles and jesting words that he
With wondrous skill and precision wheeled
His truncheon; grinning amicably.

As time wore on he found that there
Was little pleasure in feeling scorn;
Gave up his anger, left it lying there,
A little lighter his burden borne.

They say that time heels all wounds
But there are wounds that run so deep
'Tis difficult to shut up all the rooms
Lock the doors, put the demons to sleep.

...

There's much more to tell but I believe
'Tis enough for now that you have read
All I've written and I hope received
Some solace from your current dread.

Know, too, that you have given one
So lost, a clearer path to travel;
And love, green fields in which to run,
And wondrous myst'ries still to unravel.

Thou should'st not doubt my sincerity
For truly I do love thee well.
I've hopes and dreams to share with thee
And softer words to write and tell.