Stalagmite

It’s not as if I’m moribund or chained to the ground
It’s not as if my pinions haven’t wrestled winds before
It’s just that I’m indebted to the soul I’ve in you found
Unabashedly unsubtle but yet delicate and demure

Psychologically, I am no rational expert
I barely ever make eye-contact with what’s true
Still when my mind wanders - my heart is all but inert
To the promised conclusions that the gods in us once drew

So let them know I’m on my way, let them hurriedly prepare
For exhaustion won’t mar victory as two bodies reunite,
Old ghosts are always welcome to where newer one’s don’t dare
To where I’m weighed down with a burgeoning stalagmite.