Come with me, I said,
because you did not know the way.
I know a transcendental
I said, because life is
short and time is sweet
but you would not take my hand
it hurt me to watch you wither so.
So, I relented,
turned the way I knew,
how I was shown.
Mea Culpa. No, Mea Culpa.,
No, it does not matter
it never did. Take my hand, you said, come with me,
I know the way. But instead, I
way I knew, the way of law and penitence.
And in valley, low and barren, like a relict weeps with
tears, profuse, I shed
story after story,
and in my mind,
began to write the
the noble fated pair had lost our
spilling words to soil till at last there
and I heard a voice say, come with me.
The story's long and over now and
who said what and
It does not matter.
The way is calling.