The moon spins white rope

It wrangles the Earth to say

Bounded Forever

How does it feel when

You feel a love for someone

When you barely talk

If we can see things

Imaginary but not

Touch them, is touch truth?

The lover weaves dreams

Like the spider weaves his webs

Or the sky spills rain

How is it that eyes

See more clearly asleep than

When they are awake?

A tragedy it

Is that we cannot see the

Jewels of the night.

Why is it so that

The present does not haunt us

But rather the past?

The sweetest of smells

Is the memory of the

Scent of one loved

The birds start singing

Even before the sun lifts

From the horizon.

To recall the time

We met a loved one means that

There is nothing else