The Way of Love

The way of love is not a subtle argument;
the door there is devastation;
birds make great sky circles of their freedom,
how do they learn that?
They fall, and falling, they’re given wings.

You so distracted me, your absence fans my love.
Don’t ask how, then you come near;
do not, I say, and do not you answer,
don’t ask why this delights me.
Stars burn clear all night till dawn;
do that yourself,
and the spring will rise in the dark with water;
your deepest thirst is for.

You’re the spring,
we’re grasses trailing in it,
you’re the king coming by,
we’re beggars along the road,
you’re the voice,
we’re echoes of.
You’re calling for us now,
how could we not return?