"Why don't you love me," she cries,
As I stare into a world she cannot see.
The pleasures of this world are behind me now.
They call me prophet, and who am I to argue?
I tried before, but, with neither conviction
Nor a need for ego boosting, it was best
To let the subject drop.
I serve a higher calling than anything of this plane;
But her perception is skewed.
The love I felt for her has been transformed:
It is a larger, all-encompassing love.
She cannot see that my love for her has grown deeper,
Yet is equaled by my love for all other beings, as well.
How can I explain this to she who, though willing to follow me,
Does not share my sight?
She, meanwhile, takes my lack of a response as a rebuke,
And leaves with a single suppressed sob.
Some day, my dear, you may understand.
- Joe Levy, circa 1992
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