Flowering. Love cannot be held long within categories, likewise the poetry celebrating love. You might say that love loves confusion and not be far wrong. Love is metamorphosis, rapid and radical, agile, full of vigor and levity.
We are pain and what cures pain, both. We are the sweet cold water and the jar that pours. I want to hold you close like a lute, so that we can cry out with loving. Would you rather throw stones at a mirror? I am your mirror and here are the stones.
We can't help being thirsty, moving toward the voice of water.
My heart, sit only with those who know and understand you.
If everyone could see what love is, each would set up a tent pole in the ocean: the world's population pitched and living easily within the sea.
Gamble everything for love, if you are a true human being. If not, leave this gathering. Half-heartedness doesn't reach into majesty.