Beloved, I Moan Still Poem by Milla van der Have

Beloved, I moan still
of the unholy hour in which this dark love for you
this dark love awoke
and devoured the earth.
A tremendous insanity mested in me and beloved,
my body is nothing but a pulsating tomtom
on which a sad shaman is playing his faithless heeding
your totem and devoted to you,
is my body, beloved,
whose lips will never torment mine
and in your eyes my name has not been born.

Beloved, I dream still
That I reached unto the clouds and was powerful
like a river, that I carried your face.
and like the rivers pour out into sea, your image image pours out in me:
I carry it with me
I carry you with me
unto the banks of my unlimitation.

Beloved,
limit me.

It is my rage trekking through the world
and uprooting it
Of the city of your desires I am the dream citizen
and this is my desire, my voice
that attempts to escape from itself
the navel of the world
Where you are
Where you are not.

Beloved, I have planted you as a rose in my heart
But every hour I lack you.