I don't go to the shore of some lake
to write my poetry,
nor do I go embrace the tail
of the snake
to find my rhyme of the heavens,

I don't go high on the mountains
to search for the me within me,
nor do I fly on the split wings
of dead ravens,

I don’t fight with myself
on what I do and do not agree with,
nor do I kill the lamb
for the thrill in the faith of illusion,

and I don’t dance with anybody else
but her in the morning,
and I don’t climb any other fence
but her's
risen across her beauty,

and I don't play any other game
except the game of love,
and not with anybody else
but her,
on any other life but the one scrolling.