The sun does not merely rise.
It beckons to me, enticing and sly.
Whomever I will grow to be on this day
It will not be the fault of the star
That shares with me, unwittingly
The warmth of its fervor.
That which I choose is what was chosen
Synchronistic or not.

What if I sang forever
Just to find you?
Would the sounds scraped raw from my throat
let you know how much I care?
There are eternities filled
With my playing of charades
That you cannot surmise.

Whomever I come to be
I will not surrender.
For you, I will bend but not break,
Give without taking,
Cry but not weep.
For you, I would sell my eyes,
But never my heart.