To Think of It

To think of it Why do men accuse themselves of love Why do we become martyrs without death Why do I love Is silence all The answer I can get for the heart's illusion The figures and forms that time forgets The insistence Moving solemnly From breast of ice to tongue of fire with desire For joy, each time surer than the first, each time Starting again Why would I love The changing seasons as I love the indifferent sea And for the honey hoard the stings of the honey bee Harvesting pain To think of it Love is irrelevant to the existence of special recipients I love because it is the wave that validates my being Fragment to whole It is not who I choose to love, but why I love that proves love's worth Love is the purpose of my being, the courage of my birth The joy to yield My love for you Mounts you on the crest of my attention, made you The measure that marks my wave and tell its power To drink with stars