Lover, this madness, this sacred illness

Lover, this madness, this sacred illness,
this code that's undecipherable, this design
that has no precedent, the ubiquitous light
that has no limit. Lover, this bewilderment

is worse than ignorance. These anaphora
and the obsession with creation have made
a litany of verses appear. The addiction
of the artist, the confusion of the gods

while fashioning life. Lover, this madness,
this wild noise, this unadulterated pasture,
this consequence of images without meaning

assaults the listener. Lover, the evening
comes as the Sun sets and I can't figure
out how to forget what I have imagined.