Those recurring flashes of a corroding nature,
Embalm things that may not seem,
As soft and as gentle, dare I dream?

Shrouding mists of a declared sweetness,
Absorbed my realism, dissolved my hate,

Acting as a shadow, disguising my grace,
Subversive feelings and translucent intent,

Where will I go, where will I flee,
When things to come may yet cease to be,

Back to the chasm, where I feel the most glee,
Back to your bosom,
I hear thee.