where's the end of this desire, that
you love me, more than any
thing, even yourself,
it's a claim or the
captivating
dream,
often thinks the pulsation of heart, -
if it could be a feint, or made
of mind, however it's
beautiful to live
the rest of
life,
circuitous route starts from here, a
blind canyon or the blooming
valley awaiting on that
turning point, hard
to say, the
mist
of your love drags me, toward the -
inadvertently destination - -
* *
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