Sparks in the dampness of straw

You show such busyness?
To whom do you show it?
To the one born solely to count days in wait for you?
This display of endless busyness you put before her now—
if ever her occupied hours and your restless longing
must find their places on two parallel lines,
will you then be able to manage it all?

You neglect?
Whom do you neglect?
The one who surrendered to emotion's game, knowing she'd lose
in your careless moments?
This endless neglect you heap upon her now—
if ever her whims and your desire to live clutching the past
are weighed as rival forces on the same scale,
will you then be able to bear all that weight?

You keep at a distance?
Whom do you keep away?
The one bound by a hundred lifetimes' ties, knowing she'd become
the thrilling heroine of your distance's stage?
This keeping her so far away now—
if ever her lost melody and the pull of your old songs
are separated at opposite banks of the same river,
will you then agree to that decision of division?

You express annoyance?
To whom do you express it?
The one who made the orbits of stars her own, knowing
her wondering heart would shelter your irritation?
This endless show of annoyance toward her now—
if ever her endurance and your return
find place in the same tide's ebb and flow,
will you then be able to sacrifice all love
in her unbalanced state?