to be alone with you, to commune in your beauty and light,
to be alone with you, this catastrophic dance of perfection and disaster,
to be alone with you, one complete and one completed,

turning leaves on trees that should have long been bare,
the warmest winter since the day I left,
turning leaves on these trees, to them I might compare,
for I am temporary and my colours turn,
I am change and you are steadfast,
I am fleeting and you are eternal,
turning leaves on these trees, to them I might compare,
dry and broken I will return to the earth,
you are what I lack, I seek your recognition to feed my petty spirit,

weary with the days weary with the world and the worlds ways,
weary with the lack of worth that I am overcome with,
I would offer you my talents if I had such things but compared to you I pale, like branches drenched in frost I am the colour of cold, I am cold

I would offer you my talents and you would receive such a useless gift,
such beauty in your eyes I cannot understand what you see in me,
I cannot understand your mercy I cannot fathom the grace,

People say I'm silly for the lucubrations I've made on you,
this intense study of your incomprehensible character,
the world cannot see these things that I feel, they cannot accept my relationship with something divine but, you fill up my emptiness,

and still I am so wanting, and you are so content
and still I am so feeble and you are the strength,
and still to be alone with you, in your beauty and light,
and still to be alone with you, this catastrophic dance of perfection and disaster,
and still to be alone with you, one complete and one completed

to be alone with you in these moments that only I understand, \
let the world call me a fool if they may, and they will,
still I only have to be alone with you