No meddling, woman, no gossip: 
Desertion is a sun gone blue 
To those who love blind glares: 
So simple, light’s moving to and fro, 
After a while she gets bored with her dwellings 
And, trust me, she freaks out when bored, 
What with wounding souls and bleeding them to death - 
Luckily resurrection isn’t a flimsy thing, 
Flowers and butterflies do give witness to it: 
They stay still against a white glass, 
They lie flat on a white canvas, 
Yet they keep their souls so we’ll have 
A lost baptism of light: 
Every now and then 
And let life moan in white riots, 
She’s in labour, soon she’ll give birth 
To meadows where blades stand obsessive - 
Yes, just like your hands when clutching at grass - 
Anyway, don’t strip off the seeds, 
Don’t tear off the cloth in an empty cave - 
Just for a change, soul - 
Just for today.