I had an orange the other day With my midday meal And when I took it out of my bag I went about removing the peel I stabbed my nail into its flesh But the skin did not completely lift And left behind that stringy white stuff; The pith So I went about removing that too, But it came off in little bits And I became very frustrated and annoyed With it. It took me some time to get it done And my lunch only lasted Till half past one And I had spent my entire hour For an orange which turned out sour.

I chose "Love Poem" by John Fredrick Nims, and though it does not entirely meet the criteria of being a single paragraph, nor an ancient text or philosophy book, there is no denying that this text resonated deeply within me. Poetry is the music of the soul, and this particular song has possessed me. I apologize for disobeying the rules, but I could find no better candidate for this essay. Love Poem John Fredrick Nims My clumbsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases, At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring, Whose palms are bulls in china, burrs in linen, And have no cunning with any soft thing Except all ill at ease fidgeting people: The refugee uncertain at the door You make at home; deftly you steady The drunk clambering on his undulant floor. Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers' terror, Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime Yet leaping before red apoplectic streetcars- Misfit in any space. And never on time. A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only With words and people and love you move at ease. In traffic of wit expertly manoeuver And keep us, all devotion, at your knees. Forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel, Your lipstick grinning on our coat, So gayly in love's unbreakable heaven Our souls on glory of split bourbon float. Be with me darling early and late. Smash glasses- I will study wry music for your sake. For should your hands drop white and empty All the toys of the world would break. "Love Poem" by John Fredrick Nims develops a criticizing, negative tone, but as the poem continues the bitterness transforms into reverence and love for the subject, ultimately climaxing in the joining of their beings. Nims expresses his unconditional love in the very first line: “My clumbsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases.” There is emphasis on two conflicting topics: the subject's innate clumsiness which brutally “shipwrecks” beautiful fragile things: and the speaker's affection, to call the subject his, and to call them “dearest.” Through the juxtaposition of undesirable traits and an articulation of love, Nims exhibits that he forgives, even affectionate, towards the subject’s negative attributes. The speaker acknowledges his partners flaws, yet his love overpowers any disdain he may feel. The rest of the poem follows a similar structure stating a negative trait and following it with one which expresses his love. But the fifth stanza breaks this pattern. The speaker had stayed within the second person, but moved to use “are “and “we” to represent his partner and him. Still he keeps the generally negative traits, drawing back to clumsiness: “forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel, Your lipstick grinning on our coat.” While still acknowledging their clumsiness, the tone has noticeably shifted from words of destruction like “shipwreck” to constructive: “lipstick [that] grinn[ed].” Additionally there is an interesting use of pronouns, rather than the coat being the subject’s it is both of theirs, signifying that no single thing that they own is just one of theirs it belongs to both of them. This erasure of their individuality changes the meaning previous; the subject's clumsiness is the speaker's own, the subject's soul is own. That is what love meant to the speaker. Why it is a pure and simple “Love Poem.” And that's why I enjoy it so, it is no complex ancient text, nor dense philosophical ramble, yet it reached me. For a moment, when I read it, all rigid logic and rules seem to be dwarfed, for once I'm not weighed by pressure for success, for a bit I'm free from it all. So yes, I didn't pick the ideal text, but I chose one that's important to me, one that I enjoyed analyzing.