At the Altar

Your heart, this chance, I may fear losing,

But not like time.

First right or wrong, there's no hoarding

A second life.

People are not all that vie

For my passion.

I might worship, wander, laugh, and write,

Sans heart's distraction.

You think you're worth improvement,

and so do I.

You think you're worth improvement,

and so am I.

But when it comes to the ultimate sacrifice,

I demand perfection.

If God demands my writing time,

I'll change, begrudging.