Epilogue 3

I am moved by an unnamable passion and if this feeling soothes my days and 

Puts my nights to sleep 

This sickness can as well call upon your 

Lips in the cold dawn 

For I wear your disease like a ribbon on 

My chest yet you deprive me of it's 

Torment 

And love, if my heart bears you no good 

Diminish it gently into seeds to burry 

With words I send you. 

I've lived and knew not my lover's touch 

I've died away from her image 

Away from the saint's shrine, I cry 

Too tired to bend and pray 

Too frightened to worship the stones 

Instead 

"Farewell" is too gentle a word for me 

So I shatter away. Distraught and in 

Agony.