Are we to be lovers, or companions, or strangers?
(Not that one is better in some tedious way.)
I do not know myself.
I go dark and am of dark.
My journey takes me there.
And back again, but sometimes…
Is it moral to get better,
if I see things as they really are?
True is true— a little epiphany—
But so is hope a triumph.
And I have that male instinct
to penetrate, to impregnate with
A true, whatever it is,
but also hope.
So what shall we choose?
And are they different?
For the search for love does not cease in this world.
