You Can't Spell Crap Without "C"

I wish to turn around and return (to her warmth and laughter)

but this calling is strong, and denial is impossible

No measure of weight can justify what now presses into my chest

To the road, your freedom is awesome

but does it compare to the sweet embrace of my love?

Our convictions engraved by her marvelous hands

My ears are upon the brink of detonation

and the mud amongst the passage of my throat is drying to permanence

Harvest the crop of memories

To what's true, I offer thanks

I've found what's pure and I've found what's sweet

We are not barren