Cuernavaca,I am falling in love with you.
The life you display in your pain. The life you've made out of nothing.
Still, I deny you every day. You ask me to buy one of your necklaces, which could probably mean dinner - and I don't. I don't want things and I don't have money.
But I am wealthy, because I sit and read and sip in the name of education, while you find me at my outdoor café table. And you ask me to buy a painting, or a package of gum. But I deny you.
I am wealthy in experience and love, and still I have something more. Better than money are my prayers. Because I only spent a dollar on this coffee, and 60 cents on the bus. Between the two of us, we've got so little things, and so much faith.
I know your faith. I know your conquered hearts and I see your accepting brow. I know you might even have more faith than I do. I've seen more love in you, than on the streets of Paris.
Cuernavaca, you always smile. You have the flowers and the sun and your neighbors. There is art and love in every plastic street stand.
We rode the bus for fifteen minutes and the whole time you only played one chord on the guitar, your song had no words. And there was more love than I'd ever heard. So I paid for your bus ride, an investment, I know.
I'm sorry. I wish I could help more. But what you don't see is the castle I'm building every day I deny you - every time I pray.
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