O! In thy patchwork soul,
weave mine tonight.
Let a part of me
become thine tonight.
Let mine cotton
simplify thy struggling silk.
Let mine roughness
take away that blinding shine.
O! In thy patchwork soul,
do weave mine tonight.
Let mine grey
soften thy quelling ocean blue.
Let mine sombre
soothe thy troubled hue.
O! From thy silken soul
mine shall fade away tonight.
Thy frayed yarns have
become all mine tonight.
Thy fazing gleam is now a soft light.
Thy troubled tussore is now smooth silk.
O! In thy silken soul
do not weave mine patchwork one tonight.
…
Your soul is like gleaming, bright ocean-blue silk, yet it has pieces of a troubled past patchworked onto it. I, on the contrary, am dull, grey cotton. I wish to balance out the light that has become a glare… I wish to calm your overpowering blues. I have now sewn the patches of your past onto my own soul and thus restored the beauty of your silken one. My now-patchworked soul will fade away from your silken one. I see that the frayed yarns of your silk are now on my fabric. I see that your once-blinding gleam is now a gentle light, and the troubled tussore silk you once were is now smooth and soft. With this, I ask that you do not weave my soul into yours again – for you are now renewed and will shine without me.
