Thrust as one desperate cry for love
out of the shapeless eons past,
all from a whim this conflagration spread
and will continue to burn till this forest of eternity
is ash. Never will it be ash.
That is what the stars seem to say, at least.
That is the promise that is hidden in the lover’s voice.
You want to know why there are shadows
moving in and out of this poem?
It is because all lovers desire a private space
to make love, and then rest.
Sleep here if you like.
Or wake, if you are sleeping.
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