What I want to ask of you is
this, If I can find the nerve to make the leap: Life scatters dreams across the hills of sleep, Lest it be too easy to find bliss. Yet I am aware what I might miss. Only what we treasure can we keep, Ultimately sowing what we reap, Moving us to dare that first brief kiss. And so I must reveal to you my heart, Recalling all my courage from its rest, Ready for whatever word might be. You are all the object of my quest, My cynosure, my life, my other part. Each line of this begins my urgent plea.