"I wrote your name seven times in every minute that slipped by my hair. Seven times I tasted the forces that drove you away: her voice, my nails. Seven times I slept under the stars: Capricorn. Sacred goat, I thought your name as a force; your words as flowers again. Your girl, sacred ghost without a name; stones under the forces that create your fields.
"I tamed the forces that drove you away: her voice, that tiny stone; life and no escape. Imagine eternity trapped within a stone: you will find me. Wild forces: her hair floating under Capricorn. You would not know my name if you found me in hell—as you will. But I would find you anywhere. I can taste the forces that drove you: her hand, my nails. You are home; I am a force.
"You loved the girl who placed those flowers under her pillow; but I crafted those words before her. Her, you will not find her trapped in eternity because I am eternity. I would ruin all eternities to muster those words. She will not find the place within you where I buried all of eternity—neither will I.
"When you wrote those numbers for me, encoded message herein, I knew the forces that drove you. I could not stand in their way because your nature responds to forces which are not me. Your numbers translated into lines translated into parallels. We shall never love each other again. If I shall not love again, there will be no field, no respite, no relief from the shadow of your flowers. I have loved none more than you.
"I will collect the flowers and be-multiplied in words, in fields, in forces. I will become the girl who loved you. I will become frost. I will become the eternity I buried inside you. We shall not be together again under those forces because time burns eternities. I will light a candle for you at St. Anne's, but you will not know. Your loss."
—L. Sott
