If you want to be more alive, love is the truest health.
And if you are a rose, I am rose-shadow.
I turn all thorn then, but you come back again and make my thorniness fragrant and pink and petaled.
Try another way of looking. Try you looking and the whole universe seeing.
Tonight the moon kisses the stars.
And even if this world burns up hidden harps will still play here.
You fill yourself with the sharp pain of love, rather than its fulfillment.
Something opens our wings, something makes boredom and hurt disappear.
If these poems repeat themselves, then so does Spring.
This is how I would die into the love I have for you: as pieces of cloud dissolve in sunlight.