The dust can’t get dustier
if your love were the dust particles
And I, but an old unused desk,
Because I’m laden with sheets and sheets
Of the dust that is your love,
That it has now become a part of my wood,
And the distinction between you and me
Have ceased to exist.

I know if this continues to be the case
The dust of your love will claim me,
Work on me and break me,
And make me a part of the ground.
However, I can never mind,
Because, when I disappear one day
And become a part of you,
It’s when my love will come true.

– ni