To shed thyself of my possessions,
Is not to have forsaken me,
For what I truly gave was the sum of affections,
Beget with Love, tenderly.
Dost thou know that we were not to token commit?
And our Love's transcendence is akin to Light only?
A truth across the stars in eternal brightness writ;
No plunge from that height e'er goes softly.
But thou doth insist in thy sad trance,
Of our being cleft, our parting,
Thou perceives an ending from whence,
I feel a fathomless ocean and beginning.
    Nonetheless I try the same,
    To purge of you, and apportion blame.