Beshert


If we are not to be, will you spend forever trying to recreate?
If I search but never find,
Fall but never rise
Would we still call ours “lovers’ fate?”
If I leave my doors open,
Set a table in your presence and satisfy, even then
Would you remain steadfast by my side?

Or will I, as Sisyphus,
Spend eternities brushing off the ashes
From loving you?
Retrace my lips, erase your touch
Longing for a destiny that was
Like pushing an impenetrable weight up the tallest mountain
Only to tumble down at sunset
And surrender to a Passion
That leaves the heart barren
On the Plains of tender hues and dead roses.

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