When what we have is lost,
temporarily, we hope,
we go in search of it,
each going our separate way,
each of us following a different path.
I go to the forest seeking peace,
a leafy glade where my soul finds itself again
and cries out to you
like a bird calling to another.
It is such a desolate sound,
this crying of my soul,
reaching out, reaching up
and up to an empty sky
like a lark ascending, vanishing
into the rose-burnished clouds.
And you, where do you go?
To a place of mystery, I suspect,
a place I cannot even imagine
and could never enter.
Like Diana, do you seclude yourself
in a grove, a grotto?
Do you strecth out on a crag
overlooking the sea?
Do you contemplate dashing yourself
upon the rocks in a place where I will find you
smashed to bits like some wreckage of a ship
lost at sea, all hands drowned?
Why not wait for me to rescue you,
like Perseus rescued Andromeda?
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