My days I sit and plan--my love for you, the end for man.
My nights alone I sleep; my thoughts of you, and to myself I keep.
My love will never recognize the burning in my eyes.
I can only soliloquize while my love has other thoughts and will not
rise to see me.
My love, my plans--can you ask me to put them out?
I have merely made them from a mist that any man can shape to be his
for awhile.
My plans, though, can be.
My plans for the end of man.
If I can't have you, no one can.
Tan Son Nhut 20 March 1971
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