Should I have no emotion about this, then?
Would I look better in the eyes of my fellow men?
The wreck of my emotions, the destruction
Of everything I used to feel
Is still emotional; if I once felt something
About you, it will always be emotionally real.
I can’t help but feel a certain way
Every time I breathe deeply late at night
And I’m not afraid; and I realize, once again,
Everything is going to be all right.
And so I also feel a certain way
When your image comes into my mind,
Brought here by a certain feeling;
And, no matter what—let the parts of all the images dissolve,
Let dreams bump against dreams and be blind—
I still see you, with feelings that never become still,
In whatever it is that is my mind.
I have feelings about my feelings,
Even if the ones which first saw you are gone;
My feelings about feelings, not my vision,
Is the sun; these feelings shine; it is they
Which penetrate into what you are—
What you were is still relevant; the mechanical
Self is entirely made of feelings,
And that is why the universe is so quick
And sensitive; nothing really dies;
I cried once about that, and coldly, that,
Cannot escape now; she cries
That I once cried, she cries because
I will always be sensitive. And love.