Who am I to you?

A soldier of your noble crusade

willing to sacrifice

time, money

life

to feed your children

so they may live to join me in ranks?

What do I  know of Love?

Love has no meaning now.

Naked beings intertwined;

My love is

debauchery.

My love is unlike your love,

So my love,

is dying.

You.

Are Dead.

Wrong.

I am

A sculpture,

carved by the wind,

made of the clay of 

him, her, they,

but mostly 

we.

I am

A soldier of words,

Trained for no boundaries.

An eager explorer

ready to sail, soar, freefall,

To teach

The taste of freedom.

I know nothing of love.

Therefore, I know everything of love.

I worship its abundance,

its forms beyond my mind's measure.

Love is omnipotent.

My love is your love,

and our love 

lives.