Pleading For Constant
Wither my love, whither it goes,
Whither it blows my plight away
How many shatters splintered fashion,
How many deaths of torrent passion,
Cry of pain, cry of shame, cry to be
Slain for the doubted chain,
My constant bid in despair, this world
Cease to compare, my heart flows
Empty, in wishful ripples, yearning
The benign unconfusing past
Where constant is seized,
Love begins.
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