Death comes, and what we thought
we needed loses importance.
The living shiver, focused
on a muscular dark hand,
rather than the glowing cup it holds
or the toast being proposed.
In that same way love enters
your life, and the I, the ego,
a corrupt, self-absorbed king,
dies during the night.
Let him go.
Breathe cold new air,
the nothing of roselight.
