It was
rhythm to love you, afraid to confront you, something about a high school
student. I felt this life, amazed by beauty, this fever for loving: the
wakeless daze, that course of hours, to find this feeling in souls. This woman
by gaze, as the future of woes, captured by no man! This type of Aries, or even
a Gemini, but I knew not. It’s a brilliant love: a Sagittarian wit; a Scorpio’s
passion; a Cancer’s sexuality; or even a Leo, as filled with pride, dining with
a Taurus. I thought for Pisces, for intuition was raging, plus, a worldly
Capricorn. I saw for empathy, an Aquarian hive—a Virgo’s grace; or maybe a
Libra, balanced at every turn, this sense of sophistication; but I knew not:
the maple trees, the sap of cedars, or that autumn goodbye; as carried through
seas, or rather minefields, seated in caved emotions; this kinship for
thoughts, this Aries’ fire, this Taurus’ tenacity. I saw so much, the spark of
flame—this wistful cloud at the horizon. The grapevine was speaking, as to
utter secrets, these mental photographs. They were taking effect, the arts of a
Pisces, filtered through imagination; as time would churn, the impatience of a
Cancer, mingling with grandiose thoughts: this fantasy world, where all is
love, but this fraction of reality! I mourned for souls, as not to know this
love, as silent as a butterfly; as to love by culture, that air of humanness,
as she spoke with such elocution; while thoughts were young, this fledgling of
a soul, as one mesmerized by intrigue; to watch a Scorpio, or flatter a
Capricorn, as unknowing as possible; this grayish area, to hardly believe, that
one was aroused—by more than life, but dear romance, as he pined through years:
this Leo’s temper, this transformed energy, this nature for Zen; to love you by
chance, to have waited too long, as flowing with the Tao.
