there is this ethereal soul that is
incessantly lost, almost feigningly
so. for it does not have a place to stay;
and though it is as surreal as it
was before, ought it not to love again?
since it does not want to testify, I'd
be stupefied were I am to tell you
of a time when you took away the life
in me--all but a wandering notion.
but if I am to be justified, I
shall only look you through the innermost
recesses of the deepest affections.
so should this, my soul, find itself a realm,
let it be within a place in your heart.