There will be time for me to tell you
Will the words spin tomorrow as well
And will the essence be the thread

Stooped candelabrums stalk me
Between yearning and fear
Between passion and constancy
Always present while you sleep restlessly
There where the beginnings end

Solitude too has been captured, molded and limited
And her contents gnawed off in the tempest
Where the beginning and the end meet
Each full moon