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I wince to see my proffered treasure spurned, as you turn your attention to the baubles with which other "brotherly" lovers strew your party-going path, laughing at my artless efforts to woo you. I view your table through a kitchen window, (a sight you invited me to see,) and it's spread with all the treats I'll eat at our private supper; but when I knock at the locked door, no one comes to open it. I hope and crave for the unification of identity that's meant to be (twixt you and me,) enabling a stable blending of spirit to emerge - as really whole, and beyond the reach of critical outsiders.      An eagle couldn't hope to soar the sky,      unless it dared to take the plunge and fly.