I Love You, What Star Do You

The One You Love Leans Forward, Smiles, Deceives You, Opens A Door Through Which You See Dark Dreams.

How Shall We Praise The Magnificence Of The Dead, The Great Man Humbled, The Haughty Brought To Dust?

For In This Walk, This Voyage, It Is Yourself, The Profound History Of Your 'self,' That Now As Always You Encounter.

Death Is One Dream Out Of Another Flowing.

The Wind Shrieks, The Wind Grieves; It Dashes The Leaves On Walls, It Whirls Then Again; And The Enormous Sleeper Vaguely And Stupidly Dreams And Desires To Stir, To Resist A Ghost Of Pain.