I would, my dear, that I had never loved you.

For what can worship, love – nay, desire

do but pale my frail mind's deeper hue

and make my heart but reckless, worthless fire?

A shallow scourge, it burns in throes, in vain;

Ignites the dry, temporal prairie chaff,

and though it roars across the grassy plain,

will ne'er reach deeper -- truer -- than it has.

To love a friend, my heart requires truth.

To seek you out, beneath mere surface lies,

below the fire; the loam among Time’s roots:

for you’re the source – the dark earth life o’erlies.

You ageless rock!  Burning heart, like fire,

you quench no more than hidden spring, desire.