XXIX

The world deserves its wisdom. You and I, Serene within the shadow, crowned with hours, Cinctured with solitude, the bended sky Folds us in hues of tulip twilight flowers.

Knowledge is chill; your hair is warm with gold, A lock lies heavily across your cheek. I somewhere heard of darkness, pain, and cold— Keep your own, world. Ah, Love, stir not nor speak.