Shakespeare Calling ~

Oh let my willowed heart be true
From the slings and arrows of fortune as brought upon me.
By those who would call me friend.
For unaware was I to depth to which our bonds would reach.
Certainly more deeply rooted than I was led to believe?
Or so it would seem now, since our last parting had led to an amicable redux.
Why do I allow that which may tax my heart and burn my soul to irritate me as such?
When the world offers me such a rich variety of those to choose from.
Who can also nurture that which brings forth the best in who I am
While also enriching that which lies beneath them.
Heavy is the head that carries such a weight.
A personal toil of bruised ego and ruffled pride.
Why?
Why the tumult for that which clearly has no interest
In that which I offer and which they deeply desire to have?
My faith now turns to another. Trusting and true to believe
That the gift that I am, will go to the one who will treat me as such.


LRJ ~