I do not love you as sun does sweet buds of May.
Instead, I hold for you the same unknown force
Which draws tides and planets on their course,
Which pierces the dark of night with every day.
It secrets itself in my heart, though far away,
Though distance wrenches me from its source.
This I will speak, though fears strike me hoarse:
You are dearer than heaven-sent words can say

I did not ever think to softly, certainly feel
When all comforts I knew were empty things,
When pains circled in an ever-tighter wheel,
And Death bound me tight like wedding rings
Now all these are mirage, knowing you are real.
Know that I love, that your gravity gives wings.