A Patient Cause

There are many things you may never know
But not for my own exhausted efforts
There are things I would love to make you understand
But, Darling, I fear I don't have the capacity
The illustrations, the syllables
Though my eyes, my voice, my patience
They strain to make it known to you
And I meditate on the notion that you might clearly see it day by day
Even if, in truth, you still seem to let it elude you
The clearing that my mind takes
At the thought of your fondest actions, places, moments in time
That you allow me to experience with you through your own recollections
The soothing that reaches up through the bottom-most part of me
That which penetrates out at the world through my very pores
When I feel, even for an instant, that you are thinking of me
And the cold rush of an undeniably calming breeze
That is your voice saturating my weary and fevered ears
In whatever state, good or evil, that your words may be forming from
You, my Dear, are by turns a warm sun, a generous cloud, a penetrating rain
Merely by the positions of your identity
And it is always exactly the need I couldn't name
At a time that I didn't know it existed
You are an axis to my being, even if only now
And a blessed determinate view before my endlessly unfolding pathway
Though I know you will never let yourself agree
For modest hearts do always struggle with letting appreciative truths just be what they are
And though such short-lived acts as speech and touch
Will never rightly convey my love
Love is time, and my time I devote to you
Longer than it may take to prove
And, even still, after you believe me
My cause
Will be making it known all over again to you