The summer comes in the form of
a thousand fevers;  I am drenched
with loss; torn asunder,--

At the thought of
being alone forever;

Yet this torture
feels right;

As though the sun
and moon were
perfectly aligned,

and the light
burned a hole
through my flesh
exposing every
atomic function.

There is a spring
in my step, grace
in my fall;

I am one with
what most have
called earth,
and what most
have got wrong.

I wake,

as does my mouth;

Awe is what I speak.