filia tristitiae

At times I wish to know if I am too much
Too much to handle, too much to love, too much
to contain in one strict meter.
There are times I am so impassioned about something
that I do not realize how overboard I have gone until I
look at the sky and realize I have stolen the stars' twinkle
and adorned my own eyes with it.
I would like to apologize to the stars, of course
and to the storm, for stealing its thunder.
I want to apologize to those who have been driven
away by my endless reserves of opinion and ardor.
But most of all I wish to apologize to the rest of the world
       not because I feel guilty for being passionate,
       but because I pity you. It must be so lifeless
       to speak with so little passion that all
       your words do not drain the skies
                     when you speak.

The End

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