This fleshy sack
The heart
It never plans ahead
It never looks before it leaps
It doesn’t care
The sensible commands of
The august
Mind
Unheeded,
A surly rebel
Bad enough
To stumble
Weary, careworn
Under donkey load
Of love
For man
Whom you can wound
Or woman
Whom you can touch
But for a king
With no flesh?
How do I
Embrace
The wind?
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