About my love

Abjure false love (hiding) that hides underneath, before its eye gleams

Before us, from where it sees through eels, through reeds.

Oarsman! Away from this insidious harbouring

Until hurt and lies have lost our scent and the hunt called off, but

Take our foes with us for our afflicted hearts are as one.

Measure your distance widths apart, they are angry still;

Younger love left alone grows old and bitter so

Learn quickly the persistence of scorn

O’er sessional noise and the rubble of 

Visualise this...with a soft heart...

Evening falls between two shadows of loss.