I want to conquer love.
I want to take it down.
Down to the river to pray -
Pray for the race of men.
In a masculine society where do I stand
effeminate as such - no two flowers touch
except at stem, and intertwining roots
lay under earth with reason.

Reason me to believe there is no question.
For questioning the authority of men
leads down no roads.
Roads are not the only paths to take.
Here, a place without horizons,
lit by amber, shadows fall
elongated and still against the ground.
There are no roads here.

Here, thoughts echo and in their nature
rebound off these cliff walls.
Here, you are the only one standing,
enduring your own constant bombardment.
Stop thinking - to think is to detest the calm.
Calm is the sublime.
The constant quiet of nothingness.

Nothingness is a fearful expanse.