When is it proper
to love with a love
that is more than life
and to live a life
that is more than love?

When do you say
that a love is whole
like the way the sun
and the moon love so pure,
or like the sea loves the sky
that they share their color?

When will a love be true,
even truer than the sight
of the early morn as it is
the same as the feeling
of a setting sun?

When would I know
that your love is not
a lie like the way a
tiger’s silhouette is
as charming as a deer’s,
or the way a caterpillar
will slither forever?

I will live in a life
of love and bliss,
and I know it all be true
and it all be whole
for when you could have,
you had not done to
hurt me, so I know this
love with last, a love
longer than the shine of
my midnight stars.



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