You, Beloved

You
who lives inside of me
though I keep looking for you
in the outer world;
you
whose fire immolates my heart
without completely killing it,
threading it, instead,
thin and empty
like the rose of the sky;
you
who loved me
before I had a name,
before my parents bore me;
you
who will subsume my being
as I surrender my breath and die;
you, beloved,
crushing me with longing
and making sure
that I won’t survive
unless I become a thread
in the book of love.

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