The star that enlightens this discourse
With her uncommon satisfaction,
Seems like she is in third person
And what sensibility is that?
If I sat with she the better part of
A sentimental afternoon,
What endearing tales
Might we have passed?
As she the star conducts to enliven The discourse, Warming every thought I have,
I acknowledge how much I miss she.
But she is beyond the power of words
To explain and only the weight of she
Upon me gives a proportionate strength
To my breath.
What fever is this that burns so deep
That I have no right to extinguish its effect?
Without the weight of she my spirit bows down
To the burden of my hearts sorrows
While the pain in my body makes of me
The most pitiful of beings.
The pain awakens me for a moment
And in that moment I find hope
As if she has spread her balm of passions
Over me sharing its influence for my health.
Does she know that in her body lives my time?
A body that would civilize a savage
Bringing forth daylight to the darkness
With roses in her cheeks
And rubies for her lips.
She holds my warmth deep in her bosom
And without her I shiver
Shaking out my loneliness.
As cold as death itself separating
Now from then bringing that numbness
Into my foundation for which I struggle to flee.
Forgive me my zeal and allow me the right
That arises from my affections which I shall preserve
To the hour of my death.
But alas,
I think I shall never see her more
And may she find in these words the time
To sometimes think of me with pleasure
And may she find me with reverence
In these words which are proof that I had
No power
To keep this remonstrance to myself.
It is now out and may heaven
Hear me
While it awaits my return.
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