Perhaps it is not for me
To be loved, or to love
Perhaps, it is for me
Only to gaze upon it
Like a child gazes at a star
In the night sky
Maybe, it is for me to see it
To be close enough to nearly
Touch
But never to attain
Like a dry, red leaf, in the autumn
Floating in the wind
I Chase,
Yet never catch hold
Love,
Is my mirage in the dry desert
I can see it,
But I will die of thirst
Long before I reach it