the lost man chronicles
book two: the art of love
what can i give?
i can give time upon a whim, and vim and bewitching droves of verse.
i could give worse.
i can give more than many, more than most, more than any other gimcrack man can boast.
i can give an eloquent toast.
i can give more than the common will would have me give.
i can give in a way that some have sighed, “at last, in the wake of your swoon, i am finally living.” i can give without accounting for what i am giving.
i can give without condition, and at the peril of reciprocal attrition, can keep giving till it is unrequited, one-sided, and obvious that i should give no more.
i can give as if i have never given before.
i can give and live to tell the story of how the elusive heart was won.
i can give to One.
i can give till my heart is broken, and still give again without fear.
i can give in alluring proportion, and from across an ocean draw you near.
i can give in a way which delights, and ignites a yearning for me to impart more.
i can give and give and give, and ultimately only ask that in Her heart She merely store a glimmering little memory of me.
i can give tenderly, and expect little to nothing in return.
i can give knowing She might burn a hole in my soul, and in the middle of this emptiness feel the full heaviness of Her haunting.
yes, i can give fully knowing of the daunting, baleful risks of love.
the art of living the list