Dispirited Tolerance

They say my name is Marco. It doesn’t call my attention. I seek the soft tones from those who show me their open heart. My name has expired, and I wait for its replacement. Those with love knew me by a different name— an openness that competes with the grandest of canyons. I wish to be me in my original name, but the salvation of my injury knows no names, only actions that warm my besieged heart of dispirited tolerance. Call me by any name— the love I feel for you is the love that conquers me.