The world is full of us:
Writers, hoping to express the absolute.
Love, war, pain, life;
No particular order and yet our mind
Sieves through topics
Drawing us to that which we must humble.
I could talk of love.
What I have felt I give to you,
My muse, my dear, my absolute.
You show me love, war, pain and life.
You view me in every light;
You know my flaws and my qualities,
My trials and my triumphs.
Perhaps you're a mirror,
Through which I understand myself.
Whatever you may be,
You are the absolute pinnacle of