Eternal Shelf Life Poem by Bill Cantrell

Poetry?
She is pure passion,
A lover who has saved herself,
For the chosen one
Oh, how she brings me to my knees
Before her feet,
I will confess whatever it takes,
To hold her eyes
How does one bond,
With another worlds above him?
She is the queen of all hearts,
And everyone kneels before her
There is one thing that is her weakness,
For every sort of passion must have a weakness
To seek true poetry
I have searched life,
I have weighed the good along with the bad,
In order to make sense of love
It has been the most abused of all emotions
Countless are the imposters,
wearing her garments
Her children praise her
Music is her daughter,
And oh how sweet are their songs
Oh how I love her embrace,
The depths of her voice is overwhelming
I know her favorite color,
In the spectrum of feeling,
It glows in the tails of fireflies

I have heard that poetry,
Transforms into a woman
On a chosen night,
She is granted to take on bodily form,
To seek a soul to anoint with the oil of inspiration
Once I was granted audience to her intrigues
'I have come to know you as a romantic,
Let me taste your passion'
Her tongue carves words in ivory,
upon my teeth
And sharp as it's edge is,
She controls her power
With just one kiss,
I offered all my belongings,
both riches and unconditional commitment
Before her feet,
I quivered at telling my sins
Yes, I knew very well I had to be truthful
To win her,
One must hide nothing,
For her craving is for emotions of truth
And she is well aware of its rarity
It is trust that catches her eyes,
with that having been said,
I cast my poetry before her feet,
I was drunk with wild prophecies
and at least I got my kiss
May that memory accompany me all my days
Yet, her words as would have been expected
echoing in my ears,
"In a book you will be buried,
on a shelf I shall place you"
Yes, in a dream I will visit you at a given moment,
that I can recall the power of the inspiration
that was given you
For eternity demands perfection,
just as a chameleon changes colors,
the truly inspired poem conforms to the
here and now,
yes, forever changing with each season
And as of my terms of choice?
Upon death, I readily agree to be put on a shelf,
next to my brethren
There is where the bond becomes eternal'