To hold you dear this second night
Is like a pillar caste in salt
That looks with whited eye upon the past
And sees, in flames, a thousand faults:
A host of fears and trembling joys
In passion wrought, in guilt beguiled,
Yet tempered here upon this pyre.
Purer now within my sight,
I hold you dear this second night.
Copyright 2002 j. bennett carnahan, jr.
gilgal 