i live to find you beside me as i breathe each breath;
i have no hope but to be with you now and past my death.
but the crazy mind gets in the way with vapid nonsense,
and half the day is devoted to posing on the fence.
where is the mighty blood oath that for once and all swears
to die each moment in service for the love we share?
to forge a keen sword fit for use is a long hard job,
and to swing the blade like a samurai is not for the mob.
i feel more and more like a bad comic antihero:
my talent for spiritual machismo is like- zero!
make use of what talent you have, i heard a genius say:
practice until at last you can a paper tiger slay!
darvish is passing the time sharpening his famous wit,
on chance that the friend will find him an adorable twit!
