I looked over my shoulder and found nothing,
But when I began myself forward the light faded,
And so when I lit my only candle with that last match:
By then I had become one with the Sun and all its glory,
Once more I look over my shoulder and find something;
If it were something then I am the source of that light,
But if it were thine, truly then are you my only source.

Category:
Nocturnal, Poetry, Works
Tags:
,
%d bloggers like this: