my summer of love: chapter nine




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being to timelessness as it's to time,
love did no more begin than love will end;
where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim
love is the air the ocean and the land

(do lovers suffer? all divinities
proudly descending put on deathful flesh:
are lovers glad? only their smallest joy's
a universe emerging from a wish)

love is the voice under all silences,
the hope which has no opposite in fear;
the strenth so strong mere force is feebleness:
the truth more first than sun more last than star

- do lovers love? why then to heaven with hell.
Whatever sages say and fools, all's well

13. e.e. cummings

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