Can’t love, because clouds churn, I was too confident engulfed in my wanting. In particular —how could I. Though in all emptiness, in listless desires, waters sculpted your name all around moving to time’s hum. Openness — I repent that moments close, emblem bore decay. Fruit and blossoms of pre-here now. Imagine, whom I love. More than horizons and shore’s emblem of a cruel wearer — but You, whom I love. Stamped by light and stone mirage. I am nothing no more than the moon sensitive to touch — etched for fate, diamond rain, bronze reality. And soul, be lonely, in seven skies, gardens wept not death’s great house or heart’s age but happy eyes torching sun.