amabilisbruma

Tripping on steepled grounds,
and swaying on supple branches.
I come to you.

    Exalted in all I know,
    Feeling the extremes of the matter,
    I rush to you.

        Praying on the velvet vines,
        climbing up the unsteady latter,
        I reach for you.

    Giving up on the treatment,
    I take for my infirmity,
    I run from you.

Going back on what I said,
before the time of my error,
I retreat from you.