In one hand, I hold the game; in the other, love poems to God.
How do I make my life complete?
There are so many stars I could
hardly name them all; yet I barely know myself,
and the names of my own being.
What if a lifetime isn't long enough to love the world,
and be in it? Who will I be after I die?
Sometimes I feel like I have no choice, but no--
choices are all I have.