To become more than ourselves? The holding on is inertia. That it is time that we released ourselves, as an arrow flies from the string, Should we not have learned from these endless sufferings Whom all abandoned lovers should aspire to be like? Think how heroes outlive themselves, how their fame is made anew each day.īut lovers by their nature burn up in their passion once and for all. Their stories can never be proclaimed enough.Įspecially the abandoned lovers whom we almost envy.īegin over again forlornly to sing their praise. This was your calling, if you had the stomach for it.Īs if you had time for one, amidst your lucubrations. Let it waft into the sky and make more space for those birds that are full of flying. With desire and nocturnal disappointments.īut do couples simply hide behind each other to forget their fate? Then there is the night, when a huge nothing confronts us.ĭarkness lies there in wait for all of us, softly enticing, Or the other fixtures and fittings of our lives. Perhaps there is some hilltop tree, seen on our daily commute, That ideal is nothing other than the onset of a horrorĪnd all the while it threatens to destroy us.īut if we are to swallow grief, where should we find solace?Īnd even the dogs in the street can sniff out If one of them were to take me under their wing,
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