O'breathless company of heart-
Stop not, exhausted no more-
In soundless noise of your art
When love is love to death
Love not known of tears to tear,
While eyes claws over sinful paradise,
Mind leaves the back-holes to her pilgrimage-
For ages to sleep,
-on deep sediment of steam.
Yet I have grown to learn doubts,
Over dreams of sacred love searching
And solitude parks on my flowerless garden-
Wait to dread-
Called peace of her shrine.
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