O no, though flames come bowing from heaven,
if my objects should vanish, cool sea’s surrender
should somehow dismember my dreams
my green branches shall grow not over misty mountains,
as clouds that before the wild thunder fly, but rather
within obscuring clouds, where lightning play
is never quick, nor brightness destroys.
O no! I will henceforth think with clarity,
and question with boldness, and speak my love
with courage to match my love: this much i do even
now — Love.
:: 07.05.2022 ::