The Palmistry Sonnet My Love touches on the line where all love ends, the crossroads in your hands, the hidden drawing that draws upon your life. It does, at morning, open up in your palms, to tell of events that have occurred to you. No one can step outside his long bloodline.
Any choice is final, for some time.
My Love, I walk alone the ways of a borderland on which no meaning is exposed but wet sand shows footprints and stones. Hide, my love, in both my hands, the direction will be mine. Me and my love, we are one but separated in even the need to surrender. Never can the law of being human be broken although it can be surpassed by the token groans and the fewest drops of liquid ever running in between. We have mated.