I fall in love
With everything I see
Every face
Every fragile birdsong
Becomes my soul
A wholesomeness
Always growing holier
As I try to crawl away
From my wretched selfishness
Sometimes I fear
I will never be good enough
Mount Purgatory
Seems impossible to climb
When its rocks are made of sandpaper
And your legs are made of jelly
But I will go on
Trying to be good
In the hopes
That it will do you all some good
Jelly and sandpaper are nothing –
Love is my only substance
A Poet's Life 