I’ve sought you in truth and in falsehood,
I’ve sought you in political dreams,
I’ve sought you in forests at midnight,
and even in graveyards. You see,
blindness and blood cannot answer
the riddle that drives lovers mad:
what golden-mouthed deity punished us,
for what heretical act,
by entangling my soul in your soul?
History yields no probable causes
and neither does chivalry’s corpse.
Perhaps while I’m counting these losses,
I’ll unearth an old map to the stars
where I’ll find a celestial tomb,
and embalmed there will be the solution—
and perhaps that solution is you.