You Love My Mud


You have to love me for who I become

what I create, what I say, what I see,

what I give, not what I take.

You cannot love me for what I need

what I want, what I’ve been given.

You have to love me for everything I think

even if you disagree, you find my reasoning marvelous

marvelous hands to marvelous works

to marvelous words to marvelous world

then can you find me marvelous too

but lust takes your appreciation

and slams it into the mud of the eyes

mud on the hands and the filth in the mind

that filters the marvelous things.

You love my mud but not my water

which hides inside it

to make the grass grow green and curious

to feel the warmth of the sun.


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