The sky isn’t the only thing crying tonight

I loved my books
And I loved nature
And of course
I loved no one
Not even myself
And it’s a pity
That I can’t
Seem to stop
Myself from
Loving you

This wandering pen
Has hacked through thickets
And traipsed the borderlands,
Praying in it's cold temples
And crossing its sweet-pined mountains
To find the same riverbank
Where its journey began --