Does the fresh fountain flowing to the stream

know that his mingler drains into the sea?

Will th’heaven’s kisser, the high mountain, dream

about the earth, who always her base be?

It seems the world’s ruled by a law divine

that all the single souls in twains should mix.

Yet two attracted hearts as one combine,

an arrow does the third one’s wound infix.

Still silently the spring does riv’rward flow,

and solid soil upholds the ridges grand 

until the day when trench to peak does grow,

abyssal sea to boundless plain expand.

When coupled world is crumbled, vows effaced, 

have I the chance obtaining love displaced?

2015/6