Why is it wrong, to love a song, and never think of the composer?
How is it right, to see the light, and never realize the proposer?
Can I be complete, and never compete, for one who is destined to move me?
Or do I resolve, to never evolve, the love and passion bestowed thee?
For I am the soul, the poor tortured, soul one bereft of her presence;
I must realize, the obsession in me lies, to see there is no pretence;
The reward is just, to recieve her lust, renders my existance filling;
Initiate the scheme, instigate the dream, her treasures are so thrilling:
Unfathomable as it seems, to indulge my dreams, of one who is so commsumate
Indulgence of her touch, surrender to her such, to be my deliberate abdicate
The depth of my desire, shall soon transpire, that which I have needed
Render me complete, perchance to un-seat, the emptiness misheeded