WOUNDS OF LOVE

This light that consumes, this fire that devours,
This land of grey surrounding me with fear,
This sorrow fathered by a lone idea,
This anguish of sky, world, and dwindling hours,

This blood lament which graces, gives art
To a pulseless lyre, a lusty firebrand,
This heavy ocean pounding me to sand,
This scorpion lurking deep within my heart

Are all love's wreath, a wounded man's bed,
Where without sleep's dreams, I dream your presence
Amidst the ruins of my shattered head.

And though I yearn for the peaks of prudence
Your heart conjures for me a valley spread
With hemlock and passion of harsh science.