Not Debt, But Claim

 This girl! Tell me, why were you born?
 Because you exist, I live in such torment!
 Yet because you exist, I also live on!
 You are on this side of my eyes, on that side too, and still I see—
 in all my coming and going, only you are missing!
 Walking so far on this path, calling you, you, you,
 yet how much of you have I truly found? The question haunts.
 
 
 
 The question rises in wounded pride:
 then why did I come at all?
 In hope of what?
 Intoxicated by what?
 Pulled by what force?
 Have I walked all this distance in vain?
 
 
 
 Suddenly I think—
 how far I've come, how much I've gained,
 in the midst of this accounting I've forgotten...
 How much was there?
 What have I lost?
 What did I even have?
 Between that me and this me,
 the only difference is your bridge!
 
 
 
 What I was before,
 I remain the same...
 When I search for that form,
 only that comes to mind.
 Nothing else has changed,
 only my "I" has transformed,
 has become now... your "you."
 
 
 
 Now when I seek you,
 where shall I go?
 In which "I," in which "you"
 will I find you?
 This me and that you?
 Or
 that me and this you?
 
 
 
 Don't stay silent,
 speak a little!
 This girl! Why were you born?
 To tangle all my calculations?
 Listen, rather than this, just dissolve
 you into me, smear the color of love
 like clouds across those two eyes.
 All the beings I contain,
 faces I have and masks I wear,
 I'll give to you.
 In return I'll take you.
 
 
 
 Truly, girl, listen to what I say—
 when I open my eyes I see you,
 at other times I think of you.
 You in front, me behind.
 You primary, me secondary.
 You manifest, me hidden.
 You vocal, me silent.
 You in form, me in void.
 You in giving, me in virtue.
 You in the forest, me in the depths.
 Our shares are proportional.
 Meaning comes and meaning flees—
 to you, to me.
 
 
 
 This girl! Be born in every birth!
 One needs someone to love, after all—
 if not, then come for my sake!
 In my birth, you too remain
 just like this, in the chamber of my eyes.