What else can we do

but garden our shadows

while far away

the universe burns and vanishes?

What else can we do

but visit with time

while nearby

time times us to death?

What else can we do

but stop at the horizon

while far away

and nearby--

the real collision.

-- Andrée Chedid

Why should I still inulge my deep desire

and let it seek release in tears and sleep,

if heaven, which touches souls its love to teach,

will late or never quench the very fire?

Why whip my heart to act when it would tire

to death? For at my final moment's reach

these lights, my eyes, would its sweet sleep beseech,

knowing all joy must sink as grief climbs higher.

If then the blows of love which so obsess

me may not be evaded, who may own

that feeling space between dark and bright?

If I must be defeated to be blessed,

don't marvel that one, naked and alone,

should prove a prisoner of an armored knight.

--Michelangelo Buonarotti, 1534