I have no never-again, I have no always. In the sand
victory abandoned its footprints.
I am a poor man willing to love his fellow men.
I don’t know who you are. I love you. I don’t give away thorns,
and I don’t sell them.
Maybe someone will know that I didn’t weave crowns
to draw blood; that I fought against mockery;
that I did fill the high tide of my soul with the truth.
I repaid vileness with doves.
I have no never, because I was different-
was, am, will be. And in the name
of my ever-changing love I proclaim a purity.
Death is only the stone of oblivion.
I love you, on your lips I kiss happiness itself.
Let’s gather firewood. We’ll light a fire on the mountain.