I’m a subdivision of your conscience.
You no longer feel it – boldly blind.
Even if our union parts to portions,
Still – I will be rooted in your mind.
Carried on to future, new relations –
Lovers, friends, just passers-by, and foes –
Memory of me as your creation
Will be measure, measured, and retold.
Though you can pretend you don’t perceive it,
But it’s truthful as you like the things to be.
Use your patience and your wisdom to retrieve it –
Healed from blindness – keep me yours or let me be.