My love, you’re a placid lake,
I’m the one that sits on the edge,
And steals from the calmness,
A canoe that sends ripples through the quietude,
I’m the helmsman that abandons ship,
To be one with you,
At the river bed.

My love, you’re the clear blue sky,
I’m the one that sits on the edge of the globe,
And I’m jealous of the birds that soar so close,
That I feel to jump off and pray my arms turn into wings,
Even for a moment,
I’m the aviator that deserts the floating kite,
To be one with you.
At the apex of the clouds.

My love, you’re spring,
I’m the one that’s drenched from the downpour,
And there’s a rattling in my bones,
From the warmth of the chill,
That I feel to blossom like a flower,
To be one with you.

My love, you’re autumn,
I’m the leaf that falls from the tree,
And I’m saddened that I’m departed from you,
I’m crumbled beneath the heft of footsteps,
Thus, sinking into the soil; I’m buried,
Praying I germinate in a farther season,
To be one with you.

– Smyekh David-West.