I do not want the light if I must share it with you.

What incentive is there now to go if you have left me?

You have gone out to the light,

Leaving me here alone in the dark,

Trusting that I’ll follow you

As of course I always do.

Do you not see how I need a guide?

—But not one of you remained to guide me.

I no longer want the light;

It’s unclean for you have touched it with my blood on your hands.

I forgave you,

But I will not follow you.

I wanted to share the light,

But you stole it when it was premature,

And now it is prevented from flourishing as it should flourish.

You took it from desire,

But lacked in compassion,

Insensitive to my suffering.

I do not want the light if I must share it with you.

The End

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