love poem

Love is honest farming.
It is planting in the deepest place,
and only on the very last day

Love's half moon
in the winter sky,
half shadow, half light
frozen to a crystal.

Rather than deserting someone,
let me be left by someone.
When two people love,
let me be first

Loving is precious
ability, but I lack
the strength for it.
I write a note of surrender to the air.
Today
there is no other truth.

The more painful, love is;
the more lonely, love is.
Piled up, the more
remain, the building stones
of divine punishment.

Do not let your blood
flow, do not
love me.
Love fills me;
the two of us must consume it.

An uninvited woman;
I live with her.
Many days, I am that woman.
So it is,
while love is a special invitation,
the reception of conscience.

This day so lonely
one could shout for it,
in the cold spring
that gathers
at the bottom of existence,
like complete forgiveness
a love glimmers.

Love is
customary sight,
repeated encounter,
the unification of soul and body
in the past, present, future.

Today,
love compromised my character.
No, each day
love has compromised my character.