You will understand part of what I say here,
like seeing parts of the river of use to you,
like knowing the rock by the cracks
into which you can squeeze a hand or foot.

Love dissolves walls, but kernels remain.
How can I embrace you, if we become one?
How can I crave your touch, if it is only my own?
For every melding there is a sever,
and for every sever a mending.

It’s a riddle: how can you know a changing fate?
How can you see yourself through your own eyes?