Finding Isis

She’s barely worth a poem,
And yet I write her one.
Maybe she is worth one afterall,
For is she not the magic within it all?
Isis my dear, my sweet love.
And I disrespect you so?
My dear, I solemnly confuse my priorities.
I am growing wiser by the day,
And I promise her that I will be born anew,
A lover of the good and true.


Emanuel Caparelli