He sometimes tries to find
the limits of things like love.
Can you love only so much
and then it finishes at a fence
or peters out like a small stream?
Is love like a savings account
that could quietly come to an end,
and then no more money
or love?
He thinks the answer
is no, for each day
he rides on a sea
that has no shore,
is borne along by breezes
that never began.
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