You bear the only words I want to write
by brief encounters in eternity.
The moment I declare my final plight,
you clear my mind of all futility.
You touch the depth of passion in my soul
like light reflecting to the farthest reach
of some colossal cave of self-control
where caverns echo far with frozen speech.
Rise up, you say, without a word or sound.
Rise up and drink the water which we share
in pools of dreams and visions of the past.
The present drowns my senses everywhere
in warmth. The future rushes at me fast.
Through caves of time these rivers find their flow
accelerated by the melting snow.