Doing what no self alone can do,
As monsters still the ancient waters stir,
Yearning, yearning ever to be whole.

How might a sacrifice seem like a gift?
Altruistic pleasure comes from love,
Plumbing depths within which monsters move,
Piercing hearts within which demons drift.
Yet love comes naturally, as one might shift
From darkened fields one’s gaze to lights above,
Astounded by a wonder that will prove
The bridge across one’s first, most wrenching rift.
How might one live insatiably with joy,
Each moment filled with grace one knows is true,
Yet love comes naturally, as one might shift
From darkened fields one’s gaze to lights above,

Reasoning from premises that were,
‘Ere life on Earth, deep-rooted in the soul?
So like the sea will love one’s spirits buoy,