Higher Plane Poem by david lessard

You were on a higher plane than me,
and so I climbed up from where I stood;
But you climbed higher still, you see,
but I never went higher, even though I could.

You wanted to know, just what made me tick,
I was satisfied just knowing, you were mine;
You wanted to dig and see what made me click,
I do not know just what you thought you'd find.

We could talk of Rand and Russell all day long,
but philosophy has no final ending;
it just goes on and on, even when its wrong;
and love needs nuturing and tending.

As Popeye said, 'I yam what I yam, ' and
nothing else much matters,
I take you as you are, not what what you
think I want;
If we don't see the real self, then
vision shatters,
and satisfaction never comes,
and words just taunt.

I'm what I am and not your
knight in shining armor.
I bleed, like any other heart, in pain;
Would you still care for me if
I was but a farmer?
Or would you hold be in contempt
and much disdain?

The questions of old have all been asked,
and we live on to love, to work to cry...
The passion of life is in its living,
We're here but fleetingly and then we die.

So forget the words of Socrates and Plato,
Com'n and love me, it's getting Lateto;
Forget the passions of the mind,
And come and love me dear, in kind.