Think not of it, sweet one, so;---
      Give it not a tear;
Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go
      Any---anywhere.

Do not lool so sad, sweet one,---
      Sad and fadingly;
Shed one drop then,---it is gone---
      O 'twas born to die!

Still so pale? then, dearest, weep;
      Weep, I'll count the tears,
And each one shall be a bliss
      For thee in after years.

Brighter has it left thine eyes
      Than a sunny rill;
And thy whispering melodies
      Are tenderer still.

Yet---as all things mourn awhile
      At fleeting blisses,
E'en let us too! but be our dirge
      A dirge of kisses.

His love
is the winter  
solstice, mounting  
the top of her world
where  
her love  
is the summer  
equinox, embracing  
the basis  
of his

I’m drenched
in the flood
which has yet to come

I’m *******
in the prison
which has yet to exist



Not having played
the game of chess
I’m already the checkmate



Not having tasted
a single cup of your wine
I’m already drunk



Not having entered
the battlefield

I’m already wounded and slain



I no longer
know the difference
between image and reality



Like the shadow
I am

And

I am not

The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.

I'm afraid I'll end up living a small life,
in a small place,
and my small dreams
are just what remain.
That when I'm decaying somewhere
far underground and returning
to where I began
All I'll be is a small memory
in just another brain.
The words I've scribbled (or typed)
will all be long gone.
the people I made smile
will be all far away.
I'm afraid of when
my small spirit starts to fade.