Fire is there; Wood is there.
Air is there. There’s no catch of fire.
The distance interferes.
Air must turn a wind
And push the wood to catch fire.
I am here; you are there.
Love is there. There’s no catch of desire.
The valley interferes.
Love must turn wind
And thrust me to quench your desire.
It is left to the fate.
06.07.2001, Pkd
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