A HANDFUL OF dust could hide your signal when I did not know its meaning. Now that I am wiser I read it in all that hid it before. It is painted in petals of flowers; waves flash it from their foam; hills hold it high on their summits. I had my face turned from you, therefore I read the letters awry and knew not their meaning.
YOU DESIRED my love and yet you did not love me. Therefore my life clings to you like a chain of which clank and grip grow harsher the more you struggle to be free. My despair has become your deadly companion, clutching at the faintest of your favours, trying to drag you away into the cavern of tears. You have shattered my freedom, and with its wreck built your own prison.