A Mystery, Or Is It?
Love is not a mystery
Nor should it be branded so.
Time on time the wheel churns
And I have yet to find my guy
Yet do I lose faith?
No.
I am a man of faith
Strong,
Raised that way.
Love is not a thing
Which merely happens.
It involves an effort
Of which I am not yet capable.
It would take more of me
Than I am ready to give.
To love, truly and fully —
That I cannot yet do.
I want to — really, I do.
But this Benji isn’t yet ready.
I’m sorry; I wish
I wish it were otherwise.
Yet again, I’m a failure.
Destructive Anachronism 