We sit amid a growing darkness.
It is growing in me, you have no idea.
I look in your eyes, they are the eyes
of so much love.
To know where you belong is one thing,
but to accept it like opening up to a rainstorm,
to accept it like refusing to run when the
rain comes, but letting it wash you,
is another whole thing,
new and pristine, like clear rivers.
It is another whole thing you ought
to have in your open arms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.