A poem by Pablo Neruda. one of the "The poem"s!
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you,
and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel Ray,
stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who Dies,
the only one,
and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you,
Love, in fire and blood. (translator unknown)
(could've been a sigh!)
People are. words appear. poems? They be, become, bemuse, belittle.