I know not;
what time's become
or what it keeps
when long I'm gone;
but soon around
or soon before
where there my heart,
wish there, I'm for;
but is there even
is there a somewhere
is there my touch,
be never here;
be never lost
my words or thoughts
or lone, I'll bore
the poems I fought;
how barely absent,
when there, it's none
for I know not
how present's one;
one flare of flame
so coldly lit,
like poet's touch
on honor's grit;
but bless my love
bless my only love;
of no resolution
nor reasons ruling,
for nothing costs
this conscious cause;
not anymore
to bleed my bruises.
