Be with those who help your being.
Do not sit with indifferent people,
whose breath comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms.
Your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you do not try to fly, and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it is too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow.
The tree puts out fresh roots and makes new green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?