We found each other in dream again.
Amongst crude, ambitious men
Two classical souls cause sparks.
You kept a secret from me,
But I could plainly see
You had no malice.
Perhaps you are an idol of the heart,
A thing to tear down, and tear all apart,
But that’s smashing the Pieta.
I’m tired. I’ve done the best I could do.
Insufficient next to you,
But the rise and recede bring no comparisons.