The quality of this life is torturous
A Struggle to survive emotionally daily...

I am worn out by my dreams
Old, tired, yet feeling alive...

My sweetheart, I recall those January night times
I spent alone...

Neither you nor anyone sees me.
Standing, leaning or sitting there...

I am blinded by this Love;
It has become a delusion of my age...

If all the Mountains of these Isles
Piled up into one enormous peak...

My life blood seeps from me
As wounded by love my emotional sores lie...

If by me loving you and not telling you
makes me a fraud, a coward...

Over the whole world last night the bright orb of...
Shining with a luminescence like that of your...

Glancing in the environs of where I sit
I search for what Passion, Beauty and Love lies...

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I stare at the vacant chair next to me...

Stumbling through the night into oblivion,
Lost in the darkness of separation from you...