The Question of the Question

Times are forward, no more too slow,
The age of doubt passed, love prescribed to flow,
A seed of dream at heart, a wish secret to know,
An itch to ask you tonight, which path to finally follow?

Today you see me as who? I wonder in my sleep,
The answer is all but lost, yes normally too it's deep,
On the face but it's slight known, by all who see this rise,
That one sees one as one only, paving "only one"'s demise.

Many say it's vain, one must be friend at first,
But folly it is to me, to hide my enamoured thirst,
For isn't it betraying you, to let merry times grow,
And a day all of sudden, on you my wretched heart throw?
It may leave me lonely, hiding my tears instead,
At last at least still, an act I would have shed.

A decision to be reached, a matter of heart and art,
Of life and love and sorrow, and glee and end and start,
A valley of hope on one side, to fall freely with cry,
A trench of despair awaiting, if tonight my love must die.