Bury It... Where It Was Born!

Strip your love from your heart,
and slay it..
And if it dies,
do not bury it:
in the snow of your eyes,
or the denial of your lips,
or in wonder at the life it spent
in the folds of your breast,
never once in hiding.

*

And if your love dies, then bury it
where those wild flowers grow,
and the gentle breeze passes by
without whispering its sins,
and where the feet that pass that way
know nothing of the buried passion's power.

*

And if your love dies,
then fall upon your face
like the bee in the wilderness,
and beneath the hallowed sky,
you the first to feel it,
like a tree the wind has wakened.

*

And if your love dies,
cut it away, and smile.
Let the flower hide the thorn
while it shows its blossom, and let hatred vanish
and everything appear glad.
Bury it, bury it,
bury it there...
where it was born!