Does not die of want.

For only dreams are real,
And fulfilment is an illusion,
There is but one fulfilment,
Blind Nature's way--

My arms reach toward illusion,
And I would carry mist against my heart,
Not the warm, heavy head
Of a sleeping child.

Starving, I hold my dream.

V

What do you seek,
Beloved?

When you have had
All of me
There will remain for you
One beautiful desire the less.

You think you seek my love
But you seek
My denial.

Hunger, Want,
Is the only pain