at parting from a loved one

O curséd day, the day that pains me so
if only not that day existed, I
I would have lived without the knowledge of
your life, your soul and your existence too
O curse the day, the day that made mine eyes
meet thine, and yet I now will fight with him
who tries to take that day away from me
for just to live without the memory
of love’s once much beloved lovely bliss
will hurt me more than hurting hurts me now
for pain unknown is always pain undone
but love undone is never love unknown
and I would rather know the pain that is
my love than that I would forget the love
that is my pain, for lovers pain at least
is such: a flame that eats itself to dust
but dust is still as fair as is the soil
that it has soiled, and thus our soil is thus:
to have been dusted off to shine one day
and to have seen that glimmer of our love
at least that day, and other days will pass
as will so many later layers of dust
but not the dusty layer that we blew off
and so from dust we came but not to dust
we come, and time will not remember us
but we will be remembered in the dust