O Love, Where Are You Leading Me

Hopefully, I Write What I Don't Know.

I Don’t Think Any Man Writing Can Worry About What The Act Of Writing Costs Him, Even Though At Times He Is Very Aware Of It.

O Love, Where Are You Leading Me Now?

I Know This Body Is Impatient. I Know I Constitute Only A Meager Voice And Mind. Yet I Loved, I Love. I Want No Sentimentality. I Want No More Than Home.

The Lady Has Always Moved To The Next Town And You Stumble On After Her.