What is psuchē unless
it carries hieros logos,
sacred wording, within
like a treasure in her chest?
And surely there are
certain meetings—moments,
evenings—when I swear
you could glance and spell
that radiance, holding in its midst
an uncommon gaze
which too must have been once
whence you yourself have come,
and the dilemma of two Orphic wells
in the land of the dead grows clear,
as if the waters themselves conferred consent—
we have always carried the true spring ourselves,
with the heart both its kistē and witness,
and its refrain, so cautiously concealed,
was it not already the same
as that of Pervigilium Veneris,
auguring still:
quique amavit cras amet—
those who loved
will love again.
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