"To be or not to be,
That is the question."
To be active or passive in matters of the heart:
To seek it out may be a start
To a joy of joys to last many a day
A well-taken risk, for come what may.
A reward of affection garnered post haste
No more another day alone shall I waste
For to taste the nectar and then to be starved
Is to demolish the heart from my own chest carved.
Life is not Life without another to share
No worldly manners are worthy of such care;
To focus upon them, disharmonious song
Like watching scenery when the actors have gone.
Yes, life, and love, for the brave and the true
Grab the bull by the horns is what I must do.

But wait, such action would be ill-advised
When no one so deserving crosses my sight.
A changeling am I to be a perfect match found
To betray myself, a more dissonant sound
Than any sad song of lonely days past.
So perhaps the answer lies in a fast?
Much is written of the virtue of denial
And these days in solitude have been my trial--
My test of strength, where many would fail;
My Spartan life, though lonely and pale.
If this sacrifice is needed for true love to find
I would sacrifice a thousand and pay each no mind.
Besides, as such trials give me strength and vision clear
I will be primed and prepared when my lover appears!
Not to be, and trusting in the true flow of life
Living for myself and not some imagined wife
Not to dwell on the lack of affection within
Not to imagine my heart a bell made of tin
But of a cocoon, renewed, its butterfly returned
Until its spring comes again, its icy tomb warmed.

My course is clear! (I dare to say
For no doubt this shall change in too few a day.)
I bide my time, and learn my lessons well
Until I am bidden out from my shell
Then my lessons become useful, surely I'll find,
If in the throes of this love, I can heed my mind.
On that beautiful day, be it long or soon
With every cell of my being will I pursue
The long lost woman who shall capture my heart
No worries or regrets in this prodigal start.

A fairy tale I weave, it is certainly true
At the start of each I thought I knew
"Happily ever after is how this will go
How the truest lovers feel, only now do I know."
A fantasy perhaps, that can never be real
Or a pale shadow of the truth? That's how I feel.
I cannot conceive of one perfect for me
I have yet to meet her, I have yet to see
The face with which I'll fall more in love by the day
Not like a ripe fruit, destined to decay.
She's out there, she's waiting, so impatiently
While I become as perfect for her as she for me.
When I find her, I will, no sooner or late
For this weighty matter should be trusted to fate.
I'll stay true to my path, keep living my life
As I figure out how to take the wheel and drive.
For by walking in light, same shall seek me too
And then can begin my story anew.

--Peter Johnson, April 2001

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Last updated:     June 7, 2002
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