If this be love, I'd rather disgust.
If this be pleasure, I'd rather numbness. (Ignoring the fact that the excess of pleasure brings numbness.)
If this be passion, I'd rather restraint.
If this be togetherness, I'd rather independence.
For all of you cannot fill me!
Not your body, nor the expanding depths of your eyes.
If after a time, a covenant emerged or were eradicated,
perhaps your soul could fill me.
But so long as you remain unable to comprehend past my breathing,
beating, pulsing, rhythm of physical being unto death,
No covenants can become or begone.
I bear behind the barriers of my body the burden of eternity.
Eternity it is, who holds me from abandoning myself,
Or filling it only half-full.
I think that all of only Nature can hold me and so
I made a covenant with the Forest.