Fuck Referring to Anything as "Untitled"

where tender words are felt harsh
a humble archer aligns the incomprehensible
with that which is even less understood
what will we become, fair darkness?
I in you and you in I
in strange orbit we do not belong to ourselves
in deep earth heaving into night
we will give all that is bare and sacred
all that flowers beyond itself from youth
we will give it to a love of fire
for it is the same force that makes a child
that also makes a man in the wilderness of dreams
a suffering of gentleness and light
received in the swaying days and nights of feathers
where tender birds are felt harsh by the tree
and awakening is seen with awkward, sore delight

is it a wise man who walks with our strange desire?
is it fair to admit a divine pattern formed
dwelling only in the flow of waters dark
to ever a broken poet without a word for home?
can we tell now why spellbound minstrels
with broken wet singing lips come to his nameless abode
where windows of every color lay shattered
where thieves in ancient moods come to pay respect
to his loving, thriving abyss?
can such a valley bristling with its lowliness
know of giving as its eternal mode?
of giving space itself to movement
of giving much empty thought to time?

I will be his witness in silent feeling
his grace heaped entirely upon my mule
pressing forward through veils undreamable
tearing at skins still screaming from birth
I will be the fragile whisper of those who came before
yet disappearing over mountains of themselves
I will be life fulfilled yet yearning
I will be a glittering sea of corpses sucked at
by weeds turning over heavens with mineral kindness
I in he and he in I
we shall further our knowledge in love
where tender words are felt harsh
and ever a humble archer is he
aligning his heart with the long sway of the stars
we shall ever be this flaming arrow
a broken, ageless thing without any word for itself
knowing ourselves as what is given freely
to darkness smiling within