Wake me on the edges of her created lakes, Formed from streams, from raining eyes. Life drops loosely From the one without love, Without two irises raised, above To the universe, that crashes in her own. The lakes receive meteorites. Simple stains, remain On her harrowed bosom That beats so fiercely beneath the hovering moon. Wake me on those edges To see what I could not see. To see, the whole fires That melt the face, of its seeds. Not the beginning after an ending could create the smile That holds hands with a greater destiny Beyond the pain, Beyond the stains. I want to warm her heart, Without a fire, without a burn, without the starving element, Without desire, with my turn to share the greater implement Of something that does not fade, does not part.