Love is not yours, love is not mine:
It is the tranquil twilight heaven
Through which our pauseless feet are driven
Into the vast and desert noon.
Love is not mine, love is not yours:
It is a flying fire that passes,
Perishing on the blind morasses
After the frail and perished moon.
Printed from: eldritchdark.com/writings/poetry/310
Printed on: November 22, 2024