What a strange thing
\nnot to know who you are.
\nWhether you are purity
\nor the shout of your intestines.
\nI think I am snow
\nadded one by one
\nhigh above any horizon,
\nto fall sometime
\ninto crevices below.
\nCarrying the face of my catastrophe,
\nwith one true love
\nclutched inside
\nasking,
\nwas it worse to be born
\nor to have never died.
\nOr have a soul,
\nor be in love?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
What a strange thing not to know who you are. Whether you are purity or the shout of your intestines. I think I am snow…<\/p>\n