Is the future predictable? I’d deceive who I am if I said it weren’t. And thus, alike Nostradamus I look at my own poetry, one very special as I see it now. And, though it wasn’t written with any such intent, it was written out of thought of two people, who after that day, would literally make up the life I live. And would simply be whatever I needed ever. Don’t let Gollem mix you up:

No sensible title here really

Gollem uit turkije ( niet in)

Uit het oog, Uit het hart
In het oog, In het hart,
De dood danst met hij die niet weten wilt

zij, haar, zij wordt door
     hem       gekaapt

Precious, Precious speelt
hij met het uitzinnige vuur

Precious als zij is tot mij
zijn haar groene ogen
mijn inzinnige hart.

So really, I will explain my first poem ever made, and make you decide what it means.
The first paragraph, refers to the first person I talked about earlier, whose seemingly simple and basic look at life, made my complex ones land on the ground on several occasions. And can quite literally see straight through me sometimes. And Only with her, I never had the urge to try if I could beat it. I like it the way it is.
The second paragraph, was there to represent the second person, and those few words, unknowingly were to represent repeatedly what happened to her and me in the coming years after I wrote it. As I read them now, it was probably writing these words, until the moment of understanding their purpose and realizing what they did, that ever, ever gave me love, as love is something of understanding what it is, but really. It is just love that you feel. Not alike any other understanding, and thus, different.
The Third, more concerns her. I now am used to making such accusations about someone else’s future, because when I write such a poem. (I wrote this one on a balcony during a thunderstorm in Italy, the Urge of writing had become to great) It usually means something of knowledge I have not yet come to comprehend. But then, I couldn’t have guessed, that so many he’s would fail to see, that referred in the last paragraph.
As the last paragraph, is really the first and only true realization, ever made by me, that can somewhat, or just closely describe that one feeling, that one feeling, That is the most intense, when it comes, and when it is gone. Because, You don’t know what you got till it’s gone. And she never was mine, For me, or us, she was always gone… So in those years, Which by now must be more then a thousand, I knew exactly what I had, day in day out. Love.
And I think that is basically all there is to this poem. A precognition of what love was ever going to be.
So
I thank these two people, for being there for me,
For being there when I needed them,
And for teaching me, and showing me really, what the most important things in life are.
And what no wise person, no teacher and no one else, could have ever told me. Without him not understanding it himself. Even though, one of the two might still not quite comprehend.
Thank you Wytz, Thank you Pei.