Sunlit passion in the moonlit heart chamber,
your embers thaw my hot-blooded glacier.
You are my sun of the night sky.
I, your moon-glow – you, my sun-shine.
It was a full moon
and all through the night sky, not a star was winking –
cast out by the sorrows
of my gloomy eye-moonlight.
You felt that I, the moon, had arisen,
and the tear-tides swelled
in the darkness behind your eyelids –
winking adrift.
A pair of blurred suns then arose
from the slumber of the cold-blue horizon,
casting out my dimmed moon with your radiant dawning.
Oh, that sun-fire gleam within your eyes when you see me!
I, the gloom, then recede into the night but you catch me,
“Fire can love tears,” you said.
I reposed just as the faint moon does in day – indistinct of what we are –
you’re my flame, I, your tears, together we boil into a quarrel.
Now she walks on by with the love in her eyes eclipsed.
I stand in weeping-lacerations, there is no hope left
because fire and tears come not together.
Can one mend the disparity of our deities?
Who is the embodiment of our love force?
Who is the personification of our love force?
Tears boil
in quarrel.
In the twilight of our relationship,
your setting sun gave me one last sliver of a wink
before your eye sunk beneath the horizon.
Your cold-blue tears dyed into the warmth of your dying light.
I am not for you.
My moon eclipses your sun
and casts your world
into darkness.
