You are the soul of my self, life and breath,
endless beginning and duration
of my thoughts, emotions and will,
source of matter creating memory of the soul,
noon and thymos residing in my chest,
heavens in which the afterlife starts,
psyche appearing in my dreams,
wind and air of my inner cosmos,
lightest, spherical atoms composing my soul,
synthesis of all my sensations.
Your words of adoriation are ever living fire.
Flesh of my soul have been irrevocably affected
by your spiritual intelligence
and wisdom of your blood age generating thoughts.
Effluence of your loving spirit inflames circumpolar stars.
Motion in the sky is just reflection of God's destiny for us.
Love was never abstract for Cassiopeia the Queen
and all rising stars like our moon and sun.
Love, innefable realm,
mainstay of heart and mind,
sun in the center of human microcosm,
eyes, ears, tounge, hands and feet of God,
inherent nature of breath during the day and night,
one and only consciousness eluding death and time,
axiomatic language of infinite Universe
intimately connected to the philosophy of the core of all.
You are North Star on celestical sphere of my notions
showing me angelic love of woman
with power of all stars of northern heavens.

The wind is grey with ice.
Frozen days rot from inside,
leaves are black with silence.
My long hours are unended,
part of me has been stolen at night.

The first snow waits to sweep
down from the blind hills.

Como Thymos siguiéndolo, Delfos lo vio anhelante,
cuando el estadio hollaba por la turba aclamado,
tal Ladas, sobre el zócalo, corre aún con pie alado,
más raudo que en las cimas el viento vuela, errante.

Tendidos ambos brazos y el torso hacia adelante
sudor de bronce en perlas luce en su sien cuajado;
diríase que afuera del molde hubo saltado,
cuando vida el artista le infundió palpitante.

y tiembla, y la esperanza con frenesí lo enciende.
Parece que a sus labios el aire les faltara,
y el gran esfuerzo que hace sus músculos distiende.

Desatado y frenético impulso lo enajena;
y como si, corriendo, su pedestal salvara,
a la meta y la palma va huyendo por la arena.

do you love me?
that was a
rhetorical question.
the rhetoric

my logos
says that that
was a lie

my thymos
says that that
was the truth

my eros
says that that
I love you

my words filled with
notions of three
three things

the three wise monkeys
but I see evil
but I hear evil
but do I do evil?

three parts of psyche
id does desires
ego does thought
superego does justice
but do I need justice?

three segments of soul
logos thinks
thymos keeps
and what does
eros do?
it drives me on.

the third gender