How many days will my sorrow share,
how many ways will my joy compare?
How many times will I weep in pain,
how many crimes will I make plain?... more »
Your eyes are like fire,
your skin so smooth.
I want to partake of your essence,
to sooth my soul.... more »
There is not many, but one.
The tree's are not here, they are gone.
One alone sheds it leaves like tears.
The sky is opening, weeping, joining in sorrow.
But the tears of the tree contain hope.
They contain it's fruit and seed.
The sky is not weeping in sorrow.
She is weeping at the joy of rebirth.
And now there are not one, there are many.