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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I’ve not let what is broken So remain broken. The heart, though fragile Is too pertinacious not to lie in dust. So it is after she broke the heart Harmattan is then only a foetus When she suddenly appeared Out of the converging mist To fan the ember of a heart She made lone to be cold In the dry pathetic harmattan. Can swallows return back In their flight away from winter If there be no inferno yonder? True Love cannot be glad to wear A crown if it is meant to shave. O fated son of Anwu! I came forth while my heart Beats carthasis As she kisses me, a death-kiss And holds my palms to her breasts Her succulent breasts, my death-bed And my hands fumbled to her Buxom backside, my grave yard; With the sign that if the love dies The man must die with it! That night that precedes the day The day she is gone While I grieve the grieve of Hades I received from her her very words “I will never let you go.” Which I hid in my heart To forestall tears behind deep sorrow. We would have sacrificed everything Except to sacrifice not to love Whether it upsets human and custom To love is to live, to live is for love. Is there one who can become A burnt offering to a worthless love? Even the Son died for worthless souls, The king of earth and sky mindful Of mere dust to be redeemed. Do not prolong my fears, my worries My pains, People of Anwu A real and dignified heart does not Simply replace what is broken But to mend and redeem
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