Ruins of days 

 
 
I am alive. A single, insignificant scream in the silence, the last 
the last ashes that unconsciously still smolder in the ever-increasing flames to tell the 
The truth, and art, the honest: The romance, the hopeless courtesy, 
when there could be and were knights and knights for ladies' favours 
 
and every step was history - and I believed that grace with angel's wings and 
with halos, with the spell of kisses promising self-sacrificing immortality! - 
My whimsical eccentricity, admit my all-seeing, human constellation, which two 
watch me like two watchful comets, and watch me beneath thy blessed brow, and 
 
and feel it now: Thy absence makes my life worthless and disgraced! - They are opened 
The ever-creative fountains of compliments have opened in me, and I must speak for ever 
to thee in the secret, ancient language of our unconscious telepathy, as the ever-musical 
with true pearl stars, - 
 
long thou couldst but look on and laugh at my self-pity - my broken face nothing 
my gallant and lying word! - Remember, I shall never see you again. 
my universal purpose, reconciled to my world, for thou hast betrayed me in secret, and 
your all-confessing Cassandra-eye hath whispered, that in other things 
...thy faithful heart! Neither in pain, nor in despair, nor in strife. 
 
Remember when thy proud and naughty chestnut, thy seeing telepathy, 
And then, perhaps, thou shalt know 
How important and indispensable would have been the Promise-your oath that you swore to me with your heart 
with your heart!