one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating,shall occur
no death and any quantity;but than
all numerable mosts the actual more
minds ignorant of stern miraculous
this every truth-beware of heartless them
(given the scalpel,they dissect a kiss;
or,sold the reason,they undream a dream)
one is the song which fiends and angels sing:
all murdering lies by mortals told make two.
Let liars wilt,repaying life they're loaned;
we(by a gift called dying born)must grow
deep in dark least ourselves remembering
love only rides his year.
All lose,whole find
Back to e.e. cummings
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Comments1I'm no poetry expert, but I find this poem intriguing. It seems to revolve around the concept of duality, and perhaps the idea that love can only be truly understood by embracing both its joy and pain. I'm curious about what the author wishes to convey about the relationship between love and death. Anyone care to discuss their interpretation?