If I had the world to give; the over, the under, the plunder, the prize,
I wouldn’t give any of it for your eyes.
What good would you be if you were blind; if you couldn’t see my many faults, my failures, my fantastic, romantic delusions, illusions and lies?
I couldn’t be, shouldn’t be, wouldn’t be worthy of your story, your fable, your fiction, your plummeting lows or reachable highs.
It’s because of my limits and because of your lows,
That I’m able to see what’s inside us grows.
I wasn’t the safer, the saner, the ‘better than rest’.
I was the sickest, the saddest, the angry mess.
What healed me, helped me, heaped me up high
Was the ever believing optimism in your eye.
So, why would I wish you vision rather than blind?
Because I’m the sweetest, the safest, the nicest guy?
No, but because you’re able to see behind my faults, my flaws, my failures and lies,
And because of this you make me rise.