To the Struggler by the Struggler, and Ainhoa

Far be it for me to ask

and do the things as tall a task;

to love and cherish from afar,

be free unwilling to leave a scar,

some words were left unspoken;

In light and day,

dark paths my way;

it does not matter how;

if walks are buried in dunes of sand,

and no one's there to lend a hand,

mine life's curse that yours disavow;

when here on out

there's no sense to shout

it will not do to ask me now;

for in your word,

it is only absurd

should I decide to take a bow;

Your words to me may be sincere,

still I will wait until I hear

the endless whisper of deadest hope;

when time has come

from where we're from

to find the madness to elope;

one cannot say it will not happen

for in night sky the stars swim darken

as willed by you through horoscope;

so am I so stupid as to think

that love between us is at the brink?

Do we choose to wash with oil and soap?

Nope

I don't think so

We are

How we are

Where we are

When we are

Who we are together

with cadence we can weather;

the struggle is my truth,

but bliss is our youth,

what we are will make it happen.