Shall I hold my tongue to be a wanton muse?
Give leave my heart to self-abuse?
In dreams and nightmares there is one vision
Which taunts my thoughts with sharp precision.
Nor truth, nor false- T'is simply complete
No goal, no victor, and no defeat
T'is beauty and darkness entwined on this path-
Together one and two and whole and half.
An end or beginning, or a path often travelled?
Any way that I walk it, it is one to be marvelled.
There is something here which guides my fate,
Tho I must be weary, for it is I who create.
And nothing's twisting, nothing turns,
I just stand in the fire and let it burn.
To create such a love, what a dangerous feat
But what choice do I have every time that we meet?