Consider friendships frozen in position, impossible the asking,
Between the cliffs of finally knowing, and the pit of cowardice.
For one, a friend more than friends, she more than passing,
In the other friends are friends but nothing more, no other wish.
Even were the man, man enough to know the no, and smile still,
Would she, in grace, patiently endure the friendship less the More?
Graves of former friends marked by wounds, bleeding, left with Less,
Yet, bedsores form scarred hearts too, timid, comatose to the More.
Hearts are more than silly shapes, more than life’s wellspring;
Symbols of our souls, they aquafers, pulsing man’s emotions.
Friendly hearts can break, in pity mourn, or scorned will hatred sing,
Broken hearts hurt more than one, as breaker in self-loathing runs.
Take the heart, jumpstarted on hope’s haunting, wanting More;
Time passes, forming, forging friends, friends draw closer more.
What kind of friend sinks low, what heart beats but spark no more?
Hearts must beg conscience, protector crack the door, beg for More.
Manly giant or hired power climb, assurance in whom their image borne.
Midgets lost in future past, fearfully fly from toils so tall, slip in sinking sand.
Good friends haul the ropes, in encouragement calling on wisdom’s iron,
Foolish friends, the signs ignore, like blind men leading through swampy land.
Some virtuous friends, lope on with Less, oblivious to looming More,
To them, friends in fun and games but nothing else, expecting Less;
Encountering More, choose end in fearful Less, few explore More.
Ceaseless Less the strong endure and in brotherly love linger still.
Would that your cliff, were friendlier, that your command be my wish.
See beneath this mask shielding my soul, sparks form at your passing,
Eyes fixed, watching signs for wanting More, tung silenced in cowardice,
My wish for More, Less if your wish desire it, please assist up cliff to asking.
Only one answer can True Love speak, as you wish in both Less or More.
Less quenches soul sparks, More may end in Less, still Less is More
When asked for, I gladly bow and utter True Love’s motto. More
still love that died of Less offering More to everyone who ask’th for.