You have to love me for who I become
what I create, what I say, what I see,
what I give, not what I take.
You cannot love me for what I need
what I want, what I’ve been given.
You have to love me for everything I think
even if you disagree, you find my reasoning marvelous
marvelous hands to marvelous works
to marvelous words to marvelous world
then can you find me marvelous too
but lust takes your appreciation
and slams it into the mud of the eyes
mud on the hands and the filth in the mind
that filters the marvelous things.
You love my mud but not my water
which hides inside it
to make the grass grow green and curious
to feel the warmth of the sun.