“Forgive my breath, my loneliness, my eyes;
Absolve me of myself, the many lies
I've told almost daily, and further sin
That flowers on my face and tints my skin.
Forgive me that I've lain in bed all day
Reading poems and nourishing betrayal;
That I can find no thing I love, no friend
To moor me here, a weight against strong wind.
Forgive this rootlessness, my solitude,
The light I've squandered wandering this dark wood.
Harden the hearts of those that I would grieve;
Remove from me this hundred-weight of love.”
The poet I've been waiting for.