Sooner or Later * She is flower, Yet in the bud. She is fire, Yet in the blood.
At times of intimate rapture, Adrift in the felted folds Of her quavering aloneness, From the corner of her shivering I, On the edge of a sigh, She feels the seeds of height, She senses the seeds of depth, Awaiting the gardner's touch.
Entangled in the dream of time, She muses in the twilight; Sooner or later, I shall be what I am.