To love is so startling it leaves very little time for anything else
How strange the signs that led me to you
And you who, did not make a sign
Not unlike nature’s own
Who does not knock, and does not intrude
Whatever is most sweet
Will it come again, or
Never coming again
Make the memory of you more pure?
But memory and signs
And not my estate
Nor are you obliged to recognize
What comes so naturally to my view
I’m a nobody, who are you?
Fame is fickle, human love is
Initial, but not constant
So how shall I cleave to
A reincarnating muse
Whose success is not in the taking
Whose fortune is only
In the miraculous giving
I who don’t have such
A big heart to give, or courage
To try and love yet again.
Wuji Seshat 