Passion passes, Reason remains,
Rage and fury, good sense disdains.

For a moment the flower blooms,
before it rots in growing gloom,
Reason comes to kill the flower,
Into textual preserves it lowers.

The lustre shine it now possess,
Before it suffers from recess,
Reasons freezes it in fact,
Where it decays not to dust,
Flower to Jewel it transformed,
And a new love is born.

Feel not the crystal gem,
severed from its passion stem,
contemplate instead in serene calm,
That which once was the sense’s balm,
And pray instead to heaven’s throne,
The gem to life return again,
And never suffer from death’s pain.

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