You're more than leaves and clouds. You're more than all

After Shakespeare's 'Sonnet 40'
 
You're more than leaves and clouds. You're more than all
the syllables I've ever uttered, before
I knew a word I knew you. Before I called
out any name I knew yours, now the more
I sing the less I know. I have received
music the way an instrument does, used
my self to vibrate air. The clouds deceive
me when, though Sun is shining, they refuse
to reveal her. I am the patient thief
presiding in the shadows, in a poverty
of ethics. In my love, I hear your grief
in pastures and in bayous, in the injury
of calves and foals. A storm does well to show
the opposites of things, both friend and foe.