And you think these collapses are your end But nebulas collapse to become stars.
There should be a limit to my suffering As Iβm a sinner, not a disbeliever
But what good are scars if they do not ache? And what good are eyes if they do not weep? What good is desire if it does not hurt? What good is a passion if it stays βsleep?
My poetry has been engraved with your name And my heart is by your memory scarred
These fragments, these shivers of my heart Are mere lifetimes enclosed in a minute
If your heart begins to carry burdens And you begin to feel your soul benight For you, perhaps, you may become heavy For me, my love, you will ever be light
