I wanted to love correctly
But I think of the waters of Meribah
And I lose hope
You will hold my hand until the end,
But this business of loving correctly
Is not mine to learn
I’ll need thousands of years, but I only have a few
Is there and informant? An advocate?
One dispatched to me?
One who would inform me that there was
A speck of my love wrapped in your smile?
Till now, there is none