How do we compare with
   these figures of myth: the man, the woman?
They are conjured from a whirlwind
   yet their hair is immaculate,
and while hunted by demons 
    they keep their languid stride.
They may not ever understand one another,
   but agonised quests lead them to meet
      and there, faraway, make their pact.
Alas, none has found the power to return;
   to enlighten with the pale language we know.
Nor can you, my love.