A realisation of the un-individual nature of a young man's love.
To have been touched
By mortal hands as these,
Who knew my heart Centuries before I breathed.
Perhaps my love is not unique
As I once believed.
For I have your love, Therefore mine's the superior experience.
Forfend the romantic poets who came before me,
For my love for you shall be my shovel,
With which I bury their names forever.