O heart, soul, core, me:
If I do exist,
I am exactly pristine in condition
Under the surface of a pond
Frozen in eternal ice.

O want, wish, will, dream:
The ice that denies life,
Sapping its oppressive strength,
Transforming its innocent weakness;
Making brittle the bold,
Making hard the soft.

O form, frame, flesh, face:
The palm of my hand
Is spread against the bottom of the ice,
Reaching up as though to grasp
All the nothing I aspire to.

First I was disgusted:
It was you that I despised,

And now my edge is blunted:
I am terrible in kind.

It's said of Jesus' loving arms:
"Within the storm, the eye, the calm,"

Then why is what I've seen of him:
My brothers brought to harm?

The sun shone down,
Red from smoke in the sky,
Yellow from dust hung in the air.

Then the storm came.

The sky went grey,
The trees blew bent,
Torrents beat the ground into mud.

Then the storm passed,

And the sun shone down
From a wind-cleared blue sky
Through air rinsed clean by the rain.

Do as you might, you
Cannot sully the beauty
For me; you'll add some.

For what is work?
To be complete.

What is strength?
The death of defeat.

Love, as well,
Is to rest one's feet.

Forces and their ends
Must meet.

Then I ask you,
What remains past death
A worthy edifice to seek?

Love is more than tender words!
Love is to have spoke them first.

In love, which many feel to all,
Still one before another falls.

Is love the 'life' and 'death' in dance;
A shield that not let either pass?

Know that love drives every hand,
So 'love' met 'love',
And razed their lands.