“What’s wrong with her?
why, a heart lack of spur?
could it be,
the loss of life, of a friend?
the loss of capability of talk, to a friend?
the loss of warmth, from a friend?
could it be, all of what’s made mention,
be condensed dissimilar with no dissension,
each of which, put into true persons separate,
to convey, feel and thought hid deep and desperate.

In absence of one and each mention made,
lies in complete, clear crystal what i miss,
the presence of which, shows true, a reason of bliss.
a reason of bliss for me,
a reason lying elsewhere,
a reason in hands, not mine,
a reason to wait, a reason to pause,
all for the reason:
the reason of bliss”