Confession

Because I can write verses now and then,
I sometimes can present myself a sage;
A savant offering wisdom with my pen,
Pouring out deep thoughts upon the page.
But when the matter comes to my own heart,
I do not even pretend to be wise.
I fool myself before I even start,
And mis-perceive what's right before my eyes.
Too eager to connect, I find I lack
Sufficient grace to move you to conform
Your own desires with mine. And so it's back
To where I started. Failure is my norm.
The wisdom of the poet's but a pose
When love makes foolishness of all he does.