Shall I speak of the consequence,
One, that your attention causes?
Words you utter keep me stunned,
And my heart stops upon your gazes.
I am known to have just one gift;
To feel things with intense passion
Yet it happens to consume me;
A divine fire, I cannot abandon.
In sleepless nights I sing to you
A song, however, incomplete.
On bright days I write you letters;
Ardent proses, yet bittersweet.
I am indeed burned with desire;
The consequence you must construe
If this is the damage of attention
Imagine, what your love will do.
Life’s unending conflict remains
How long shall I function with it?
The want differs from what seems best
Its outcome remain unknown yet
I have tried to devise a right path
To outdo hindrances and despair
My countless sins put me to shame
Oh, how low could I bow in prayer?
How fortunate would’ve life been
If one found both love and work
So neither one make his work, love
Nor would one make his love, work
Poor am I to divide my attention
Some for love, and some for work
All I fear is; through exhaustion,
I may just stop pursuing this quirk.