This is a poem.
I kind of pride myself that I write about feelings
that everybody has.
I don't have any special feelings,
but I know this one everybody must have had.
This is called I Loved You Before I Was Born.
I have to tell you, this is a poem
I wrote to God or the Goddess.
One of my dysfunctions when you were talking about love
is I always mistake the mortal living beloved for the goddess,
even when she's telling me, look, I'm not a goddess.
Treat me like a person.
[LAUGHTER]
So I'm trying.
And I have a friend who's a brilliant young psychologist.
And he says to me, he said, there's no hope
unless we withdraw all of our projections.
I'm trying to withdraw the projection of the goddess
onto her.
It's very difficult. So this is called,
I Loved You Before I Was Born.
I loved you before I was born.
It doesn't make sense, I know.
I saw your eyes before I had eyes to see,
and I have lived longing for your every look ever since.
That longing entered time as this body,
and the longing grew as this body waxed,
and the longing grows as this body wanes.
That longing will outlive this body.
I loved you before I was born.
It makes no sense, I know.
Long before eternity, I caught a glimpse
of your neck and shoulders, your ankles and toes,
and I've been lonely for you from that instant.
That loneliness appeared on Earth as this body,
and my share of time has been nothing
but your name outrunning my ever saying it clearly.
Your face, fleeing my ever.
Kissing it firmly once on the mouth.
In longing, I am most myself, rapped.
My lamp, mortal.
My light, hidden and singing.
I give you my blank heart.
Please write on it what you wish.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you.