I shun all stain, all mark of mortal dust,
Except the trace that bears the sign of you.
For that, I’d yield my soul without mistrust,
To call your spirit from the shadow through.
Let taint be mine, if I may keep you near;
Your absence cuts more deep than death can do.
You are the shape of good—so bright, so clear,
And goodness feels unfinished without you.
No wholeness dwells where you're not held, embraced;
No light is full unless you are its flame.
I search for you in beauty, truth, and grace,
Yet even they fall short without your name.
If I must fall to rise with you again,
Let love redeem where reason draws the chain.
