Aching
Soft candles
flicker in the rain, but such our hands are spurning,
and we no
longer will accept those chestnut candles’ burning,
for we have
tried to one more time, and know the final turning.
When our two
minds a second time each other would have known,
there was then
nothing else than worthless words to call our own.
You’re walking
by my side and yet you’re walking there alone.
For there is
nothing left at all that we’re allowed to give.
Soft candles
flicker in the rain, but have not long to live.
And our eyes
gleam in that same void as empty as a sieve.
For you are
there, and I am here, and that is all things’ aching:
And mutely
earth finds by the rain its green deep heart is waking,
but we can find
no way inside, and that is all things’ aching.
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