There should be a limit to my suffering As I’m 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 ‘sleep?

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