false

Days of impeccability have come,
like the storm of snow
pushing white blindness.
Days of love,
times of courage,
echoes of comets,
language of stars,
dreams of planets dissolved.

Extravagance cannot be measured
when purpose is born.
And this body, this body,
no longer necessary,
remains for you.
To leave it
I must leave you.
That, I won't do.