We are one; love’s impossible;
We never let anyone into our circle;
The circle of the self is immaculate, inviolate—
You cannot enter it.
Why did I think there could be love?
My whole life I searched for it,
And the idea of blending with another was heaven!
But now I find
Circles defended by the blind.
“Who’s there? Who’s entering my circle?”
It is I, the yearning and the beautiful.
I put my hand in someone’s hand.
While it happened, it was grand.
I thought love was making us one.
Two cannot be one.
Why did I think that was possible?
I cannot be in your circle.
Was never in there.
We say things. But we cannot care.
Is the circle good? Is love at the center?
I feel it is. Until the blind blindly enter.
Weather destroyed fashion.
Love destroyed porn.
Who you are today
Gazed at you when you were born.
You’re more loving than you know.
But you’re in my circle. And you will have to go.
